


Son of A Preacher Man

by Zeke21



Series: Son of a Preacher Man [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: 60s AU, :'(, Abuse, Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe- No Supernatural, Angst, Canon Divergence, Closeted Dean Winchester, Gay Castiel, Gay Dean Winchester, High School, Homophobic Language, Homophobic Slurs, Hurt Castiel, Hurt Dean, John Winchester's A+ Parenting, M/M, Not Majorly, Religion, Sad Ending, Small Towns, Teen Angst, Teenage AU, Violence, but i might write a sequel, homophobic abuse, human cas, if i can be bothered
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-11
Updated: 2017-02-04
Packaged: 2018-07-14 11:53:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 19
Words: 35,837
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7169975
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zeke21/pseuds/Zeke21
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean Winchester is angry, he's given up on God, people are starting to talk. When the town preacher asks his son Castiel to bring Dean back into the fold he's happy for an excuse to spend more time together. The closer they get however, the more Castiel comes to doubt his own faith and relationship to the church, his father and god. <br/>Edit: it has a sequel now!</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> 1\. This is my first ever fic, and really the first time I've ever written anything this big or plotty. Any feedback on anything (style, structure, pacing, grammar, plot etc) would be REALLY appreciated 'cos I have no beta reader or anything and I really don't know what I'm doing. I also don't know how accurate the tags are or anything, if i've missed any big ones please let me know.  
> 2\. The inspiration for this fic came from me listening to "Son a Preacher Man" by Dusty Springfield about 300 times in a row. So just imagine that song playing in the background. I haven't specified a time period but I'm going for a vaguely 60s tone.  
> 3\. I'm not religious, I've never been to church, nor do I live in a small town or even in the US so if any of that stuff is inaccurate I'm sorry.  
> enjoy :)

Sunday was unusually hot for Kansas.

Olsburg wasn’t used to it and the town seemed to be melting in on itself, the flowers collapsing in sweaty heaps in front of parched lawns in front of neat houses. The windows and doors had been thrown open, uncaringly baring their contents to the world. It wasn’t as if the occupants had much to worry about, with a population of just over 300, Olsburg hadn’t had a serious crime in over 20 years.

And it wasn’t as if there was anybody around to steal anything either. The whole town ( and then some) was packed into large church that dominated the eastern edge of town. Despite its size the church was packed beyond its capacity. It didn’t help that so many of the women favoured wide brimmed hats, and from above the pews looked like a multicoloured forest of bonnets and lace. Beneath the canopy, the air was stagnant, sweat and cheap perfume forming a choking miasma. 

In the back row, Sam Winchester’s singing faltered into a series of coughs that continued even as the hymn drew to a close. On his left, Dean’s hands fluttered at his back anxiously while John glared at him pointedly on the right. Sam was still coughing as the congregation took their seats and Pastor Novak took to his stand. 

“Your boy ok there John?” he called across the church good naturedly, “or did the Holy Spirit get caught in his throat?” the whole parish laughed as Sam, bright red and still coughing weakly, tried to hide from the stares. 

The Preacher held his hands up, “OK that’s enough,” and the congregation quieted almost immediately. He smiled warmly at the eager crowd, his flock, and began to speak.  
“It’s good to be back, I can’t say how much I’ve missed this place.” He paused to acknowledge the cheers and beams that swept the hall. “I don’t like leavin’ anymore than you like me bein’ away, but the Lord’s message needs spreading. And I know, that Pastor Walker is more than capable of serving you in my absence, which is more than most places can say.” He paused again, letting them consider his words before he approached the meat of his sermon. 

In the back pew, Dean rubbed his hand over Sam’s back gently, knowing he would still be upset. It wasn’t Sam’s fault, and the Pastor had only been joking with him; but he was thirteen and no thirteen year old liked being stared at by that many adults. 

He listened with half an ear to the sermon, his thoughts pointed away from the church, .It was nearly 10.30, they hadn’t eaten breakfast before they left and he was hungry. Mom had always gotten up early to make them breakfast on Sundays...He forced his mind away from that line of thought and focussed on the Pastor’s words instead. 

“...bad out there folks. In some places they’ve stopped attending church all together. They think that if they’re baptised as a baby and married there as an adult, they’re sorted for life! They don’t understand that God don’t just accept any moocher! What they don’t understand is that faith is a lifelong commitment...”

Dean found his attention wavering again; he didn’t enjoy church the way Sammy and John did, never found solace in faith, no matter how much he committed to it. He didn’t normally come to church anymore. What was the point? What had God ever done for him?

His wandering eyes settled in Castiel, the Preacher’s son, sitting in the front row. His dark head was bowed in apparent prayer, but he seemed to sense Dean’s eyes on him as he looked up, twisting in his seat. His eyes were a bright blue, and Dean was so distracted by them that it took him a few seconds to realise he’d been caught staring. He blushed, quickly dropping his gaze and mimicking Castiel’s pose .He supposed if Castiel would be in his class at school. The whole town was curious about the boy: he had lived with his mother until now, and Pastor Novak didn’t like talking about her. Dean wondered why he was here: maybe something had happened to his Mom too...Thinking of school reminded him of the Dance next Thursday; he supposed he should ask someone. But Benny had already asked Meg, and he didn’t know any other girls that well. There was Anna in his chemistry class, who often smiled at him across the classroom. Meg said she liked him: that she asked about him in PE, but the thought of asking her made his throat contract. He didn’t know why, he’d talked to Anna a couple times and she seemed nice but...

Pastor Novak slammed his hand against the podium, and Dean jumped, guiltily looking around to make sure his Dad hadn’t seen that he’d been day dreaming again. But John, like the rest of the congregation, had his eyes glued to the Preacher, enraptured.  
“...No Morals! No grasp of proper family values!” Novak was shouting. “They let their children cavort with the depraved and then they come cryin’ to me when their sin leads to woe, as if they haven’t already spit in the hand I offered to them, spit on the good book, on the lord himself!”

The congregation was stirring angrily at his words; Novak seemed to notice and made a deliberate effort to calm himself before continuing in a softer voice. “Folks, don’t despair, “You do not stay angry forever but delight to show mercy. You will again have compassion on us; you will tread our sins underfoot and hurl all our iniquities into the depths of the sea.” God is good, he is kind, and as long as there a folks like you around, Goodness will triumph. Now, my children let us Pray...”

The parishioners bowed their heads as one, and Dean sank back into his own thoughts again. He would ask Anna on Monday. Anna was pretty, he supposed, and it would make Dad happy. He knew Dad was worried about him, wanted him to take an interest in “normal” things like girls. Perhaps he wouldn’t be so angry all the time if Dean had a girlfriend...

The rustling of clothes, told him the sermon had ended, and he jumped to his feet in relief. He was nearly at the door when he realised that John was among the small crowd trying to get face to face with Pastor Novak. He huffed with impatience as he caught up with him and Sam.  
“Dad, c’mon, I’m hungry.” He pulled at John’s arm.  
“Shut your trap Dean!” his father snapped.  
“But –”  
“Shut it!” John’s raised voice caught the Pastor’s attention and he made his way over to them, gliding effortlessly through the disappointed crowd. He reached out and clasped John’s outstretched hand, before pulling him into a hug.  
“John,” he said warmly. “How’ve you been?”  
“Been doin’ ok, Pastor, all things considered,” John said and Dean rolled his eyes. Of course they hadn’t been doing ok, but John Winchester would never admit that.  
“John,” the Pastor chided gently. “We’ve known each other how long and you’re back to calling me Pastor? What’s wrong with Jimmy?”  
“Sorry Jimmy didn’t mean to get all formal on you, I just,” he took a deep breath. “I just haven’t had the chance to properly thank you for everything you...with Mary... and I want to do it properly.” Jim waited patiently for him to finish, before taking his hand again.  
“You don’t have to do that John, I only did what the Lord expected of me, and I would’ve done it anyway. Mary was such a bright woman...her passing has truly darkened the world.”  
John was close to tears. “Thank you Jim, listen there’s something else as well,” he looked and the crowd still gathered around them and leaned closer. “But I was hoping we could talk about it in private. Maybe later?”  
“Of course John, why don’t I come over tonight? I’ll bring Castiel to keep the boys company; we’ll make a meal of it.”  
John seemed a little shocked at the offer, but he nodded gratefully. “That would be nice Jimmy, thanks.”  
*****************************************************************************

The car journey home was silent. Normally, Sam’s chatter about the ceremony filled the awkward spaces but today he seemed to sense that John’s mood was too delicate to risk. Dean too was quiet, staring moodily out the window as identical houses moved past in an impassive blur. Something had to break, and it was Dean that did.  
“We might need to stop dad,” he said, trying desperately to sound helpful. “For food n’ stuff.” It was an innocuous sentence, but John seemed to be going through every word, searching for an insult.  
“Yeah you’re probably right son,” he said eventually, and the tension in the car lessened perceptibly. 

Sam started up his usual patter as they turned into grocery store parking lot. John smiled at him as they entered the shop, which Rufus had just opened, barely out of church himself.  
“Sam,” john cut in. “Would you go and get a nice cake or something for dessert? Your pick.” Sam looked excitedly at Dean who moved to follow him before John grabbed his arm. “Just a sec son.” Sam was already half way down the aisle.

John turned to Dean, a hard edge in his voice. “Dean, I don’t want any of your shit tonight, got it?”  
Dean stiffened, trying to figure out whether it was worth arguing or not. “I don’t know what you mean Dad,” he said eventually. Dad was going to shout at him whatever, he figured.  
Instead, John pulled him close, bringing his face close to Dean’s.  
“Son,” he whispered, “whatever phase you’re going through right now – not going to church, arguing with me, with the teachers, with Pastor Walker – leave it! I’ve tried to help you, but you’ve been determined to ignore me and anyone else who knows what’s good for you. I’ve given you more than enough time to deal with everything and I’m telling you: it ends now. Pastor Jim is the backbone of this community, and he’s done more for this family than your wretched little ass. I won’t have you disrespecting him or his beliefs. Is that clear?”  
His hands were clutching Dean’s shoulders so hard he could feel it beneath his jacket. He bit back the retort he had been preparing, not wanting to antagonise his father any further. 

“Yes Sir.”  
********************************************************************************

Castiel’s ride to the Winchesters was far from silent. His father kept a running commentary all through the ridiculously short drive.  
“That’s the Roadhouse, best bar around. Well, it’s the only bar around.” He laughed at his own joke. “And there’s Bobby Singer’s garage, he might have an openin for you, if I ask.”  
“But I don’t know anything about cars,” Castiel protested hopelessly.  
“Ah you’ll learn.” Jim dismissed him with a wave of the hand. “’sides it’s a nice touch, I fix their souls: you fix their engines.”  
Ah, so that was it. He didn’t care one bit whether Castiel knew or cared about cars, this was all part of his Act, his character. Well if that was the role he was destined for so be it. He knew what would be expected of him if he left Mom’s, anything would be better than going back there, tail between his legs.

“Castiel,” his father had abruptly turned serious. “Tonight, I need you at your best behaviour.”  
That meant pious, adoring altar boy. “Of Course. Are the Winchesters old friend’s of yours?” he asked, politely curious.  
“Everyone’s friends round here.” Jim replied wryly. He thought for a moment. “John Winchester’s a good man; he’s always done right by the church. Last year his wife, Mary, died, and he had a hard time dealing with it. They were sweethearts since the 6th grade practically, meant to be. He didn’t know how to function without her. Still doesn’t.”  
“That’s terrible. How did she die?” Castiel felt the muted sympathy one always felt at a stranger’s death, mixed with guilt that he couldn’t feel more.  
“It was sudden. An aneurism or somethin. Happened right in front of her eldest, Dean, he’s not dealt with it so good either.”  
“Dean Winchester?” “Yeah, he’s about your age. You’ll probably be in the same class in school. He’s got a younger brother too, Sam. Great kid” They drove in silence for a few minutes, before pulling in front of a house that looked exactly the same as all the other houses around here. Castiel wondered how they found the right ones in the dark. 

As they walked up to the front door, he saw that the garden was more run down than would normally be allowed, the lawn was overgrown, and weeds were creeping up through the flower beds. The front porch needed a fresh coat of paint as well. Such things would normally warrant a concerned visit from the neighbours in a town like this, he supposed having a dead wife allowed some leeway. 

At the door, his father turned to face him. “Remember son, best behaviour”  
“I know Dad.” 

Sam Winchester answered the door, still dressed in his Sunday best, several inches of ankle and wrist visible. He beamed at Jim, adoration on clearly visible in his face.  
“Pastor Jim!” He beamed, “come in, dinner’ll be about 5 minutes ‘k?”  
“Thank you Sam,” Jim answered graciously, reaching out to shake Sam’s eager hand. “Look at you. You must’ve grown at least a foot since I last saw you. And you’re lookin more and more like your grandfather everyday!”  
Sam, who had withdrawn slightly in teenaged embarrassment at the mention of his looks, mumbled something, before turning to shake Castiel’s hand as well. He was already the same height, and Castiel didn’t doubt he would soon tower over him.  
“It’s nice to meet you Sam,” he said, trying to think of something else to say. “Have you had a nice day?” he asked, lamely.  
Sam only smiled, “Yeah,” he said, turning back to Jim. “Today was really great Pastor Jim, thank you.”  
“No thank you son.” Jim smiled, “knowing that I got through to just one person is enough for me.”  
Inwardly, Castiel rolled his eyes and the lie, but Sam only grinned wider. “I don’t know how you do it,” he gushed. “Standing up there with all those people watching you, not mixing your words up or anything.” As he talked he led them through the short hallway and into a small dining room.  
Castiel surveyed the house as he passed. There was a definite absence here. Perhaps it was the empty coat peg by the door; or the pile of unopened mail; or the empty spaces on the bookshelf, but someone had been deliberately removed from the house. Though Mary, he assumed, still beamed at him from photo after photo that adorned every flat surface or wall, her belongings, her life, were conspicuously absent. 

Another, older boy sat at the table – Dean. He turned as they entered and Castiel recognised the boy who’d been staring at him in church that morning. He had been too far away for Castiel to make out anything but his vibrant green eyes. They were greener than anything else he had seen in a long time. Everything here, even the plants was either dusty or faded, and Castiel felt his mood lift at the sight of colour. He felt like Dorothy in the Wizard of Oz. Dean smiled at them as they entered, but didn’t rise. 

“Pastor,” was all he said, his tone deliberately polite but neutral. Castiel found himself oddly relieved. He had grown so tired of the exaggerated respect the people in this town showed to his father and, by extension, him. It was nice to be treated like a real person again, however minutely.  
“Dean!” a voice barked from behind them. John Winchester stood in the doorway, wearing a ridiculously frilled apron that obviously wasn’t his, glaring daggers at his son.  
“Great the Pastor properly” he ordered, still managing to sound serious despite his ridiculous apron.  
Dean rolled his eyes and moved slowly, as if it cost him a great effort, across the room to shake Jim and Castiel’s hands. “It’s truly blessed to see you today Father,” he intoned monotonously.  
His eyes met Castiel’s and seemed to dare him to say something, anything about his disrespect. Castiel knew a good son should stand up for his father, but something about Dean Winchester made him want to laugh instead.  
“Dean,” John’s warning cut through the silence. “Don’t do something we’ll all regret.”  
“It’s ok John,” Jim stepped between the two Winchesters, “Boys will always have their fun. Something smells delicious, I hope it’s dinner!” 

They all pretended not to notice that John was shaking slightly as he placed the last of the food on the table. He took his seat and waited, looking expectantly at Jim. The Pastor smiled, lowering his head to begin grace.  
Castiel listened long enough to confirm it was a long one; he was in full Preacher mode tonight, before he tuned the words out. He still wasn’t used to grace; it wasn’t something Mom ever did. He heard noises from across the table and looked up to Dean filling his plate, determinedly ignoring the prayer. From the way John Winchester was gripping his teeth he knew what was going on too, but he kept his eyes closed and hands clasped. 

It was an awkward meal. John sat, staring at the Pastor, picking half heartedly at the food Sam filled the void, chattering incessantly about the church, about school, barely stopping to eat. He seemed to think that if silence were allowed to creep in for even one second, everything would fall apart.  
The meal was bad: the chicken was dry, the beans soggy and overdone. Castiel hoped that John wasn’t the regular cook. He gave up after a few mouthfuls, spreading the rest guiltily across his plate. Dean seemed determined to clean his plate as quickly as possible, and he kept his kept his beautiful eyes pointed downwards.  
Jim ate slowly, as if he were savouring every bite, nodding sagely at Sam and breaking in with his own comments from time to time. He was deliberately ignoring John’s pleading gaze, Castiel thought, wanting to bask in Sam’s admiration for as long as possible. Eventually however, his plate was clean and he sat back with a satisfied smile. Dean’s sigh of relief was deliberately audible as he jumped to his feet, practically smashing the plates together in his hurry to clear the table. 

“If anyone needs me I’ll be in my room.” He was practically at the door when Jim called to him.  
“Now wait a second there Dean. I was hopin’ that you and Sam could show Castiel the old river while I talk to your daddy. That ok?” it was phrased as a question but there was a firm edge to his voice that brokered no argument. Despite his recent actions, Dean had been raised in the Church, and a disobeying the Pastor was against his deepest levels of conditioning.  
“No Sir,” he sounded indifferent. “C’mon Sammy. Castiel.” 

Sam looked disappointed but stood to go. Feeling slightly awkward, Castiel followed the brothers out through the kitchen and into their back yard. It was another square of forlorn looking grass, a few balls strewn haphazardly about. A small gate at the bottom led onto a river bank. The water moved sluggishly in the evening heat. 

Sam was already through the gate but Dean turned to wait for him. “It gets wider further down.” He jerked his head in the direction Sam had gone, “we can wait for them to finish. It’s like a five minute walk.”  
“Ok,” was all Castiel could think to say. He cast around desperately for a conversation, his mind drawing blanks. He wasn’t like his Father: he could never think what to say. “You, um, go to school?” he asked eventually, cringing inwardly at the stupidity of the question.  
“Uh-huh. Senton High the next town over. You going there?” Dean either didn’t notice Castiel’s embarrassment or he ignored it, for which the other boy was grateful.  
“Yeah, I start on Monday. It’s nice that I’m going to know one person there at least.”  
Dean smiled wanly. “It’s the only high school around, everybody knows everybody. And they’ll definitely know you.”  
“Because of my Dad?”  
“No, because of your jet pack. Course it’s your Dad.” Dean sounded amused, and Castiel was pleasantly surprised to find himself laughing. It wasn’t that the joke was particularly good; there was just something about Dean that made him want to smile. His humour faded as he considered what Dean had said.  
“I had hoped I could kind of just...blend in.” He admitted, flushing slightly. “I don’t really want to be known as the ‘Preacher’s Son.’” Dean reached out and patted his shoulder. The warmth of his hand spread down Castiel’s arm.  
“Better than the kid with the dead mom,” Dean assured him, dropping his arm to his side. Castiel shivered slightly as the warmth withdrew. He glanced sideways at Dean, who had withdrawn slightly. He was pulling the sleeves of his shirt down over his hands as if he too were cold.  
“I’m...Sorry.” it was all he could think to say. Dean shook his head furiously, rubbing the back of his covered hand across his face.  
“Don’t be, you weren’t there. Nothin’ you or anyone else could’ve done. ‘Cept God I guess.” His eyes flashed defiantly across Castiel’s face, measuring the reaction to his statement. When Castiel remained silent, he relaxed again. “Y’know Castiel, you don’t act much like a Preacher’s son would act.”

Castiel thought about it. “I guess not,” he said slowly. “But I haven’t really been a Preacher’s son very long.”  
“No?”  
“Not really,” he admitted. “I barely ever saw my Father until a few months ago, and my Mom’s not really the church type.”  
“Huh,” Dean thought a few moments. “Why’re you back with him then?” he asked eventually. Castiel looked at him evenly, weighing his options. Eventually, he settled on the truth.  
“I um got in a fight, Mom freaked.” He explained his face turning red as Dean broke into incredulous laughter. Further down the path, Sam turned to look at them suspiciously.

“Sorry,” Dean gasped out eventually. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to – it’s just, you don’t exactly look like the fightin’ sort.” He was right, Castiel knew, but it still stung a little and spurred him on further than he’d originally intended. His father didn’t like him talking about this, didn’t want Castiel’s embarrassing past known.  
“Yeah well, the guy deserved it.”  
“Did you beat him?” there was still an edge of amusement in Dean’s voice.  
“No,” Castiel admitted. “He gave me two black eyes and all he got in return was bruised knuckles.”  
Dean was laughing so hard he nearly tipped over, and he slung an arm round Castiel to steady himself. The easy contact shocked both boys and they drew apart abruptly. Avoiding Castiel’s eyes, Dean couldn’t understand why his heart was beating so fast. He risked a glance to his right and saw that Castiel too was blushing. He opened his mouth, though he didn’t know what he was going to say, when a boyish shout saved him the trouble. 

“Castiel! Dean! Did you see how many skips that was? It had to have been at least eight!” Sam was standing next the river, a pile of flat stones at his feet, beaming excitedly. Dean shot one last smile in Castiel’s direction before turning to his brother.  
“Only eight? C’mon Sammy you can do that in your sleep. Betcha I can get ten! How many d’ya think you’ll get Castiel?” Trying not to look at each other the two older boys joined Sam at the river bank, the Sun low in the sky.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yay i actually followed through on something for once. score. thanks to everyone who left kudos, it really kept me going. 
> 
> I realised like halfway through writing this chapter that this is supposed to be the 60s but there's no segregation or racism in the school or the town so...yeah i guess it now takes place in a weird timeless void where racism isn't as prevalent but mobile phones don't exist either. 
> 
> also, i think i'm massively exaggerating the importance of god and the church to these people but it's only to make the plot more melodramatic.  
> enjoy

Sam’s alarm pierced Dean’s head like a knife. He groaned, throwing a pillow in the general direction of his younger brother. He was rewarded by the clock being shoved closer to his ear. Forcing himself upwards he lunged for Sam, who was already across the room, laughing.   
“Turn it off Sam. I’m up ok?” The shrill beeps cut off as Dean cast around for his clothes. He picked up a crumpled shirt and sniffed at it gingerly. It wasn’t too bad, considering...  
“Dean, do us all a favour and get some clean shirts.” Sam said from across the room. He was already fully dressed and his eyes were disgustingly bright considering the time. Dean made a face at him.   
“Is it really that bad?”   
“It’s worse.”   
Groaning, Dean rolled out of his bed and stamped across the hall. Technically, he had his own room. He and Sam had been sharing for over a year, however, and neither wanted the situation to change. He pulled some clean clothes out his closet, yawning. He would have to put a wash on tonight. Sam could laugh at his dirty clothes all he liked, but he wasn’t much better. Most of his clothes were too small these days anyway, when was the last time they’d gone shopping? It must have been before Mom died; he was sure he’d never been with Dad. 

A familiar resentment rose in his throat. He squashed it before the questions could form. It wasn’t Dad’s fault. He was only trying his best. It wasn’t his fault

He needed to start breakfast. Dean was good cook, better than John at any rate. It was worth Sam waking him up early if he could make a proper breakfast.   
Sam was already downstairs, nose deep in some book. “C’mon Sam, don’t read porn at the table.” He hit Sam on the back of the head playfully. “What d’you want for breakfast? Bacon?”  
“Shut up and bacon sounds nice. Do we have time?” “We’ve got ages, Dad’s not even up yet.” Dean’s hands seemed to move of their own accord as he talked. Soon the bacon was frying happily on the pan, the smell wafting through the small house. 

John stumbled in as Dean was serving up. He looked grumpy and hungover, but his expression lifted somewhat as Dean passed him a plate.  
“Thanks son,” he said gruffly. “Just what I need.”  
“Don’t mention it Dad. It’s gonna be a busy day.” Dean smiled at his father, John smiled back. The arguments of the previous day forgotten, it seemed, in the wake of bacon.

Inwardly, Sam smiled in relief. Life was much easier when John and Dean got along. The conversation faded as they ate, each of them retreating into their own thoughts. 

Dean was surprised to find he was thinking about Castiel – he’d be starting today. They’d had a good time the previous night, and it would be nice to have someone new to talk to. Benny and Meg had eyes only for each other recently, and Dean was getting bored of third wheeling them. Unlike everyone else Dean knew, Castiel’s eyes weren’t tinged with pity when they looked at him. They all seemed to pity him these days. Or they were angry at him. 

“You boys ready to go?” John asked, shovelling the last of the bacon into his mouth.

 

It was a short car journey, only ten minutes or so, to the next town over. John worked as a mechanic in a garage near Sam’s middle school, and he enjoyed dropping the boys off and picking them up. It comforted him, that he could be present in their lives in any way, no matter how small.   
“Oh, Dad,” Sam had just remembered. “I don’t need picking up today.”  
“No?” John was disappointed for a moment, but he pushed the feeling aside.   
“Sorry, I forgot until now, but I’m going to Ruby’s house tonight. Her Mom’s gonna pick us up” Sam blushed slightly, “we’re going to, um, study.” Dean snorted in obvious disbelief, causing Sam to redden further.  
“I’m glad son,” and he was, John realised. As much as he loved them, as much as he couldn’t lose them, his sons had been so isolated since Mary. They needed to get back into the world. Besides Sam was almost the same age as he’d been when he’d met Mary...  
“What about you Dean?” He watched his older son in the mirror hopefully. But Dean only shrugged. John frowned in worry. It was normal; he always tried to tell himself. Dean was just a late starter. Hell, he should be glad. So many boys Dean’s age were out, making messes out of lives. It was normal, he told himself, that Dean was seventeen and had never shown an interest in any girl. It wasn’t normal, the stubborn part of his brain insisted. He’d seen the way girls looked at Dean – you could practically hear the sighs that followed him sometimes – but Dean never looked back. 

Dean had seen the worry playing out in his father’s eyes. He knew what it was about, it was always about the same thing, and he cast around desperately for something, anything, to put his father at ease.   
“There is this dance on Thursday though,” He said, watching his father’s eyes carefully. “There’s this, uh, girl – Anna. I’m going with her. If she says yes.” He tried to emulate the embarrassed pride he’d heard in Sam’s voice, as if he really was interested in Anna in that way. He was rewarded by John’s wide smile.  
“That’s great Dean, it really is. Anna’s Naomi’s daughter isn’t she? She can come to ours before the dance.”  
“Uh yeah, I guess.” Shit, now he would have to actually go with her. “I haven’t properly asked her yet though. She might say no.” He entertained the brief hope that she would. 

John just nodded, satisfied by Dean’s normalcy for now. Dean stared out the window, trying to think of how to approach this. It would have been so much easier if he liked Anna; or anyone really. He’d seen the movies, even read the books. He was supposed to want steal the moon for them, or hide it lest it make them feel ugly. He’d seen the way Dad stared at Mom, the same in every photo whether they were twelve or thirty. He’d never met any girl that made him feel like that. 

They were pulling up to his school now, he slid out the car waving to Sam and John as they pulled away. Bag hanging casually off one shoulder, he spotted Castiel and his mood lifted. He made his way towards him, but stopped when he realised Castiel wasn’t alone. 

Uriel, Pastor Walker’s son, was by his side pointing officiously at students and teachers as they passed. Dean turned away, angered at his own regret. Of course Pastor Novak would ask Uriel to show his son around, it was probably a good thing. Uriel was popular, the benefits of being a Preacher’s son in a church town, and Castiel would make more friends hanging out with him than with Dean. 

Castiel had seen Dean too. He felt a swell of relief at the familiar blond head, a flash of green as Dean had looked around. But then Dean had headed into the school alone, and one of Uriel’s insistent hands was tugging at his sleeve, the other gesturing to some new teenager he had deemed essential to meet. 

Castiel felt like a visiting Statesman, Uriel led him from kid to another; everyone of them seemed to be expecting something of him. He did all he could do: he shook hands, smiled, and listened politely as they gushed about his father. 

It was clearly an important yet eclectic mix. Footballers and Cheerleaders yes, but also band kids and student council. Castiel entertained the brief hope that this school was not as mired in cliques as his last had been. He doubted it, more probably there was some other thing that linked this group together. All of them, he realised, had been at his Father’s sermon on Sunday. 

He gave up on names early on. They were all biblical, like his, and old biblical at that. Hael, Raphael, Ezekiel. He wondered if they resented their names, as he always had. In among the Joes and Peters of his old life, Castiel had sounded pretentious and dated. Here, however, there were so many of them, that they sounded elevated, almost holy. 

People seemed to view them that way too. The crowd of students parted before them, a mixture of admiration and fear on their faces. It felt weird to Castiel, to be on the receiving end of those glances, and he tried not to let the attention bother him. 

Uriel guided him into a nearby classroom, talking all the while. “...really is the best school in the district,” he was saying pompously and Castiel nodded as if he’d been listening the whole time. He found Uriel hard to listen to, the boy talked in an eerily similar manner to his father, Pastor Walker, and it was hard to take a seventeen year old who talked like a middle aged preacher seriously. 

The details of the classroom likewise slipped from his mind. It looked like every other classroom he had ever been in. There was still five minutes until the bell rang, and teenagers clustered together, talking loudly. 

A lone figure was relaxing at a desk, staring out the window. Before Castiel was really aware of what he was doing, he had already dropped into the seat beside him. 

“Hello Dean,”

Dean jumped, ready to tear into whoever it was, when the site of blue eyes stopped him short.  
“Castiel,” he was more pleased than he wanted to admit that Castiel had sought him out. “Enjoying your new celebrity?” He smiled crookedly at Castiel, who had the decency to look embarrassed.  
“I wouldn’t say that,” He could already feel himself relaxing around Dean. They had only known each other for a few days but it felt longer. “Uriel has been very...thorough.”  
“Well he needs to show his new catch off while he can,” Dean explained bitterly. “Before you outshine him and become homecoming king or whatever.”  
“I doubt that could ever happen. All I really have going for me is my father.”  
“Oh believe me, that’ll be enough,” Dean assured him. “For them anyway. The whole town practically worships the ground your father walks on: but he’s too old for high school so you’re the next best thing.”  
Castiel grimaced at the thought. He’d known how popular his father was, but had hoped, stupidly he saw, that once his initial newness wore off he would be allowed to fade into obscurity.   
“How do I escape?” he asked hopelessly, both to Dean and the world at large. It was Dean who answered.   
“Well, I’m no expert, but I’d say ditchin’ the popular kids to hang out with the ‘godless loner’ is a good start. It’s pissed your minder off at least.” He leaned back in his chair, smiling over Castiel’s shoulder.   
Turning, Castiel saw that Dean was right. Uriel was still standing where Castiel had left him. There was a livid expression on his face that Castiel found impossible to take seriously.   
“He looks constipated,” he muttered to Dean, who’s snicker was loud enough to float across the room to where Uriel stood. This spurred him into action, and he crossed the room to stand in between Castiel and Dean.   
“Castiel, there is a spare desk next to me, Hael, Inias and Raphael. We think you should sit with us.” He smiled smugly at Dean, “you don’t want to be seen mixing with the wrong people.”   
The vitriol in voice shocked Castiel, as did the blatant rudeness of his comment. Dean was smiling same as ever at Uriel, but his fists were clenched under the desk and his eyes had darkened somehow.   
“Thank you Uriel, but I’m fine here.” Castiel said coldly. Uriel’s face twisted into a strange grimace. It took the boys a second to realise he was smiling.   
“This desk is already taken Castiel; the only spare one is with us.” Victory assured, he returned to his side of the room. Dean smiled wanly at Castiel.  
“Looks like you’re stuck in the bible belt for now,” he said as Castiel gathered his things, trying not to let the disappointment and embarrassment coursing through him creep into his voice. It was stupid. He was being stupid.   
Castiel must have sensed what was going on under the surface, for he reached out and placed a hand on Dean’s shoulder. Unconsciously, Dean put his own hand on top of it, drawing comfort from the contact.   
“Dean, I’m sorry,” Castiel said quietly, moving his head closer to the other boy’s until they were almost touching. “I’d rather be with you. They’re the wrong people, not you.” It was clumsy, but Dean felt the words resonate through him none the less. 

“Thank you Cas,” The nickname was as instinctual as the hand on his shoulder had been. The normal rules of social interaction had been suspended for a few shining seconds and they clung to each other.   
The bell rang, reality forced its way in, and the two of them sprang apart, glancing around to make sure no one was staring at them.   
Cas hurried away, still glowing from the new nickname. It seemed to separate him from Uriel’s group and their stupid, outdated names.

“You need to be more careful,” Uriel informed him as soon as he sat down.  
“What do you mean?” Had Uriel been watching them?  
“Well – “Uriel was cut off by the teacher’s call for silence. Cas turned in his seat to face the front, he would need to find out after class had ended.

He wanted to speak to Dean once class was over, but Uriel grabbed him practically the second the bell rang. As he was pulled from the classroom he caught Dean’s eyes and gave a helpless shrug, receiving an amused smile in return. 

Once they were a safe distance from the classroom (and Dean) Uriel released his vice like grip on Castiel’s arm. “You should not be seen with the heathen Winchester,” he said immediately, his voice heavy with anger.  
The archaic word stunned Castiel, and he was unable to speak as his brain processed the absurdity of it all. “Heathen?” was all he managed in the end.   
“That boy is godless,” Uriel seemed to think Castiel’s shock came from his revelation about Dean, for he continued in the same pompous tone. “He doesn’t go to church, he doesn’t respect god. If you knew what he said to my father...”  
So that was it, Castiel realised. He dimly remembered Jim mentioning some friction between Dean and Pastor Walker, this must be where Uriel’s dislike stemmed from. He was certainly the type to hold a grudge.  
“Well Dean’s been through a lot,” Castiel broke into Uriel’s rant. “If you tried to understand him instead of hating him perhaps you’d find some common ground.”  
“There is no understanding a boy like that,” Uriel hissed, as if he were talking about some kind of ghoul instead of a teenager.   
Castiel opened his mouth to retort, but thought better of it. He knew his father would be furious if he got into a fight on his first day (and with the other Pastor’s son no less) and he also knew it would only make Uriel hate Dean more. He knew all that, but he also knew he’d never wanted to punch someone as badly as he did now. He forced himself to be content with imagining it for now. He hoped it would be enough to see him through the day.  
Uriel seemed to take his silence for acceptance, if not agreement, for he soon lapsed back into his endless monologue about the school. Castiel nodded as he droned, keeping an eye out for flashes of green. 

He saw Dean once more at lunch, sitting rather forlornly with a couple of older students who seemed more interested gazing into each other’s eyes than eating or talking. He would’ve gone over to talk, but it seemed Uriel had decreed they were to be kept a part for his deputy, Hael, had gestured cheerfully but firmly to a table as far from Dean as they could get while still being on the school grounds. He followed reluctantly, but he still followed. He knew everything he did today would get back to his Dad somehow, and he didn’t want another lecture on “appropriate behaviour”.  
Hael seemed kind at least. She asked questions and even managed to appear mildly interested in his answers. “So why did you move here?” She was asking now. Castiel struggled to remember the answer his dad wanted him to give.  
“I wanted to reconnect with my father.” He hoped it was the right answer, though he doubted it mattered.  
“Oh I can see why,” Hael gushed. “He’s a wonderful man. You look a lot like him y’know?”  
“I’ve been told,” he replied perhaps a little too stiffly. He smiled at her, trying to redress the balance. It was hard enough having the surname Novak, being almost a mirror image of his father made it impossible for him to hide.   
He realised that the way Hael was looking at him had changed. The placid curiosity had been replaced by something more dynamic, calculating. “Castiel,” she said slowly. “Do you know about the dance on Thursday?”  
I’ve only been at this school for four hours he wanted to say. “No I didn’t know about it,” he said instead.   
“Do you think you’ll go?”  
“ I guess,” she seemed to be expecting something from him. He tried to figure out what. “Are you going?” he asked, buying more time.  
“Oh I don’t know...” she was still talking maddeningly slowly. “I don’t really have anyone go with you see...”  
Something clicked into place and he stared at Hael in disbelief. She had only known him a few hours, why did she want him to take ask her? Why didn’t she just ask him? He didn’t know what to do. He didn’t want to go with her, he knew that much. But if he said so, how would she (or Uriel or his father) react? He didn’t even know why he didn’t want to go with her, she seemed nice enough: it just felt fundamentally wrong. It wasn’t supposed to, he was supposed to be happy, ecstatic even, that a girl wanted to go out with him. What was wrong with him?  
“Would you, um, would you like to go with me then?” He forced himself to ask and her face immediately brightened. “Just as friends” he added quickly but she seemed not hear him.   
Instead, she rounded the table and took the space next to him, pushing against him in a too familiar manner. “Of course I’ll go with you Castiel,” she beamed at him.   
Uriel and the others were approaching, but Hael remained close to his side. In fact, she was pushed closer as someone, Michael he thought, took the space next to her. Hael was talking animatedly to him already, and Castiel was able to sink into his own thoughts.   
This should make them all happy, he thought bitterly. His father would love Hael. He would hold them up as shining examples of American youth in one of his next sermons. He wondered if Dean was going to the dance. He hoped so.   
He heard distant squealing, and a few triumphant hands patted him on the back. Hael had told them all the good news, he supposed.   
He was halfway through the day, he told himself. He could get through it.   
Hael took over Uriel’s shadowing duties for the rest of the day. She walked him to his classes even when she was in a different one, depositing him at a desk that was always near someone she considered appropriate. She needn’t have bothered. He and Dean did not share anymore classes.   
It wasn’t until the end of the day that he saw Dean again. The final bell had rung, and the hallways were slowly emptying as everyone piled out into evening sun. He was dawdling, trying to catch a few moments of peace and quiet before Hael or Uriel found him, when he spotted Dean. His heart leapt, and he sped towards the other boy, trying to reach him before someone appeared to spirit him away.   
Dean was talking to a girl he saw as he drew closer. It wasn’t the same girl from lunch, she looked younger, and her hair was red. She laughed at something Dean said and turned away, giving him a small wave as she left. Dean stared after her, an unreadable expression on his face. Then he turned and saw Castiel hurrying towards him, and his face broke into a smile.  
“Cas,” he called warmly, as the other boy reached him. “How’ve you enjoyed your day?”  
Cas smiled, secretly thrilled that he’d used the nickname. He’d worried it had been a onetime thing but it rolled off Dean’s tongue as if he’d been saying it for years. “My day was shit,” he admitted cheerfully.   
“Oh really?” Dean raised his eyebrows in mock surprise. “I wonder why? I heard you got a girlfriend though so congrats!”  
Cas frowned in mild confusion and panic. “A girlfriend I don’t – “ his expression cleared abruptly and he groaned. “Hael,” he explained. “I said I’d go to some dance with her and now she’s acting like we’re married. How did you find out?”  
“Uriel,” Dean said simply, and when Castiel looked surprised, he clarified. “Not directly. He and some other member of his clique were talking about it, loudly, in math today. I don’t know if they wanted me specifically to hear it or the entire school, but they were loud enough that Sam could probably hear them in his class.”  
Cas seemed to sag in horror, Dean thought he might fall but he leaned against the wall instead. “Shit,” he said softly, “What the hell am I supposed to do?”  
“Keep swearing? That normally helps” Cas laughed, and Dean revelled in the sound. “How you getting home?”   
“My dad’s picking me up today.”  
“That’s lucky ‘cos you’ve probably missed the bus by now. That also means your guardian angels should be gone and it’s safe to go outside.” Dean pushed Cas gently down the hall as he spoke.  
“Who was that girl you were talking to?” Castiel asked as they emerged into daylight. “Your girlfriend?”  
“Anna? God no.” Dean didn’t seem aware of what he’s said. “ She’s more of a... an acquaintance I guess? I asked her to that stupid dance on Thursday, and she said yes. That’s about all there is to it.”  
“I’m glad.”The words slipped out before he’d had time to think about them.  
Dean turned to him in surprise. “Why’re you glad?”  
“I don’t know. I’m just glad. Were you glad when you found out Hael wasn’t my girlfriend?” he wasn’t sure what made him ask the question, but now he wanted to know the answer more than anything else. Dean stared at him for what felt like a long time.   
When he did reply, it was soft, almost tender. “I was glad too. I don’t know why either.”  
They both stood in silence, trying to figure out what it all meant, until a car pulled up opposite them.   
“I think that’s your ride.” Dean said to him, his voice still tinged with confusion. “See you tomorrow?”  
“Yeah, I’d like that.” Cas mumbled.

 

His father seemed more invested in Castiel’s love life that he was.  
“Hael’s a lovely girl,” He informed his son over dinner that night. “So pretty, and her family’s been with the church for years too. Looks like you’ve got a touch of the ol’ Novak charm in you after all”   
Castiel had shoved a mouthful of food in his mouth so he didn’t have to reply. Instead he nodded and tried to think of a way to change the subject. By the time he swallowed, however, Jim had clearly thought of a more pressing matter, for he reached out to clasp his son’s hand. Cas felt his stomach sink. His father only did this when he wanted clarify or change an aspect of Castiel’s “character”. It usually meant a long lecture.   
“Son,” they always began with son. “Uriel mentioned that you seemed very friendly with Dean Winchester.” Castiel couldn’t help but be amazed that his father had already collected a full report on his day. “Now son, there’s no love between the Walkers and that Winchester boy, and for good reason,” he was building up to the point already, perhaps this one would be short. “But, I’m proud of you son.”  
“What?” Castiel’s shock was obvious. Jim pretended not to notice.   
“It’s a good thing you’re doin’, trying to get that boy back where he belongs. With us.” There it was. Of course this would relate back to the church. Everything always did. How good would it make Jim look, Castiel tried to imagine it, if the town “heathen” rejoined the fold.   
He wanted to deny it, to tell his father the truth for once, but what difference would it make? If anything, this would make it easier to spend time with Dean. He tried to look embarrassed at being “discovered” ducking his head and looking away.   
“He’s hurting, Dad. Really bad. I just want to help him find peace” he tried to inject the words with the moral superiority that had made him want to punch Uriel. He worried he may have gone overboard with it, but his father was convinced.   
He smiled at Castiel. “I knew it was worth bringing you here.” He said happily, glad his investment was paying off. “Now, you’re not the only one who had an excitin’ day let me tell you. I got an interesting call from the radio station today...”


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry this is late, i've been sick and my country fucked itself over so it's not been the best week for me. 
> 
> finally getting to the gay :))))))). But seriously i feel i've gone very melodramatic and it was very fun to write so hopefully it wil l be fun to read too.
> 
> enjoy

Castiel had been worried how Dean would react to his new “mission” but the other boy took it in his stride.   
“So how you gonna save my poor soul?” he asked in mock desperation, dropping to his knees dramatically in the grass in front of Cas.   
It was lunch time; Castiel had hidden from the omnipresent Hael and managed to sneak to Dean’s table. Without talking, Dean had led him outside onto the overgrown grass alongside football pitch. It was good to be outside, despite the muggy clouds. There were a couple of snotty looking freshmen eating together (too weird to sit with everyone else, too scared to ditch like the older kids) but apart from that they were alone.  
Dean was still on his knees, hands clasped in fake prayer and shaking. His eyes were dancing with an amusement so infectious Castiel had to join in. He shifted into the posture Jim used when conducting sermons, head thrown back, and arms spread wide.  
“Lord save this sinner!” he called to the sky, a perfect imitation of the Pastor’s self important tone. “Raise him from Perdition!” He gripped Dean’s shoulder, tightly, as if he really were trying to raise Dean from hell.  
“Save me Lord!” Dean echoed, though his laughter somewhat ruined the dramatics. Cas’ face cracked and he grinned down at Dean, laughter flashing in his eyes.  
Shrill shrieks from behind them broke the moment as Castiel whirled round to confront the sound. The freshman had been watching them it seemed, one was making a jerk off motion with his hand. Dean blushed as he realised how they must look, on his knees, Cas’ hand.  
“Enjoying yourselves Faggots?” one of them called.  
Dean wanted to get out. He could feel shame and embarrassment creeping in as he scrambled to his feet, keeping his gaze low. The laughter cut off abruptly and Dean snapped his head up. The freshmen were backing up fast, away from Castiel who was striding towards them. He had nearly reached them when the pair broke and ran.  
“Hey hey,” Dean was running to catch up. He spun Cas to face him, and found his words dead in his throat.   
He barely recognised his friend. Castiel’s face was a hard mask of anger, he suddenly looked much older. His eyes, normally the warm blue of the sky, had hardened into ice. Dean took a step back as that gaze met his. “Cas?” was all he managed.  
Castiel saw the fear in Dean’s eyes, saw him back off. He forced himself to calm down. Not again, he couldn’t go through all this again. “I’m sorry Dean. I didn’t mean to scare you.” He was almost pleading, Dean had to believe him, he had to.   
“I wasn’t scared,” Dean huffed. “You just shocked me, runnin’ off like that.”  
“I’m sorry.” He knew Dean would want an explanation; he hoped it wouldn’t scare him off. “At my old school,” he stopped, tried again. “I mean, people always used to call me – y’know.” He knew he wasn’t being terribly clear, but he didn’t want to say it. Mercifully, Dean understood.   
“Is that what you got into fights about?” he asked, gently. When all Castiel could do was nod, Dean squeezed his arm in sympathy. “Idiots, that’s all they were.” He assured Cas, “fuck ‘em.”  
“If only it were that easy.” Castiel smiled weakly. “I hoped that when I moved, if I did what my father wanted. If I seemed normal–” He stopped, “it was stupid.” He admitted, “I just wanted to get out.”  
“I feel ya buddy,” Dean said bitterly, “If it wasn’t for Sammy I’d be outta here.”  
“Really? Is it that bad for you?”  
It was, Dean saw as he thought about everything. “Yeah. I’m sick of people blaming me for their issues. Dad, Uriel, this whole goddam town...” he trailed off, lost in thought.  
“Where would you go?”   
Dean shrugged. “I dunno, I never thought about it properly. Just...anywhere that wasn’t here.”  
“That’s what I thought about here,” Cas admitted. “I didn’t think about where I was going so long as it wasn’t where I was.”  
“And how’s that worked out for you so far?” Dean asked wryly.  
“Well I met you, so not too bad.” They both laughed, the tension melting off of them as they sat together on the grass. 

 

Avoiding the “God Squad”, as Dean called them, became easier as the week dragged on. Castiel found himself suspiciously alone in between classes, and the seat next to Dean in the one lesson they did share had mysteriously opened up. Cas was sure that Jim had told Uriel (or had told his father who passed the message on) of his “mission” to save Dean, and that Uriel had passed the word on to the others. He wasn’t annoyed, it meant he could spend even more time with Dean while still fulfilling his “Preacher’s Son” role for the other students.  
Dean was happy to take advantage of the situation too. John was thrilled, he knew, at Castiel’s interest, and home life was relaxing back towards the way it had been. John had even agreed to let Dean drive to the school dance on his own, which saved him from awkward conversation between Anna and his Dad.   
Instead, he was treated to stony silence for the entire ride to the school. Anna answered his questions politely but obviously preferred staring out the window than talking to him. Dean let quiet sit, it wasn’t until they were at the school that it occurred to him that Anna was annoyed him. He was alerted to the possibility when she practically ran from the car to the hall, not stopping to wait.   
“Anna!” he caught up to her at the entrance to the gym. Cheesy music drifted out the doors. “What’s wrong?”  
She looked at him in disbelief, her mouth open slightly in complete surprise. “What’s wrong?” she asked, dangerously slow. “You need to ask what’s wrong?”  
“Um –”  
“You ignore me all week,” Anna interrupted him, quite willing to talk now, it seemed. “I don’t see you,” her voice rose, drowning out the music. “You make no effort to talk to me. In fact, you seem to be avoiding me to hang out with your boyfriend Castiel. And after I’d been nice to you, after I talked to you even though Hael and her group bitched about me for it, you can’t find the time of day for me and then you have to ask what’s wrong?” she was breathing heavily as she finished.   
Dean was nonplussed. “I’m sorry Anna, I –” he began but she cut him off again.  
“I don’t care Dean. I honestly don’t give a shit if you’re sorry or not. I only came with you to get a lift, ok? Just leave me alone from now on.” She turned and sped into the gym, deliberately not looking back at him.   
Alone outside the school, Dean debated his options. If we went home now he’d have to explain to John why he was dateless, which he very much didn’t want to do. He knew that John would be disappointed, especially if Dean reappeared barely an hour after he’d left, and he didn’t want to face that now.   
There was nothing else to do either. Everyone was weirdly invested in this dance, even Benny and Meg, who were no doubt sucking face somewhere inside. He would have to take his chances. Maybe, he thought hopefully, Hael had had enough of being ignored too, and had ditched Cas for someone more attentive.  
Hael was annoyed at Castiel. Unfortunately for him, she had elected to make up for lost time. She kept a claw like grip on arm, at odds with the pretty smile on her face. Castiel forced himself to submit to it all. He owed Hael this at least. He tried to be interested in the conversations around him, but they were all about his father.   
“His broadcast was amazing!” Hester was telling them, the eighth person to bring it up so far. “You must be so happy Castiel.”  
“Uh yeah, of course.” Did they care about anything other than Jim, he wondered. It didn’t seem like it.   
Out of the corner of his eye he spotted Anna. She was clearly annoyed, and clearly alone. Where was Dean?   
“Castiel?”  
He dragged his attention back to Hael. “Huh?”  
“I was asking,” Hael said coldly. “What you thought of your father’s choice of closing verses?”  
They were still talking about this? “Well...” the truth was Cas hadn’t listened to the broadcast, but he couldn’t admit that now. “Umm, I thought they were, uh, interesting. An unusual choice. ”  
“Really?” Hael’s voice was so falsely bright he almost took a step back, “how so?”  
Shit.“Umm,” as he stalled, Dean entered the hall.   
Dean saw Cas immediately. Their eyes met, and he almost laughed out loud at the “get me the fuck out of here” look in them. He crossed the hall in quick, easy strides. Hael had followed Castiel’s gaze, her face took on a pained look and her grip on his arm tightened noticeably.   
“Dean, it’s nice to see you.” She did not sound convincing.   
“I’m sure,” Dean did not bother to hide the sarcasm in his voice. “I haven’t interrupted anything important have I?” His eyes were on Castiel, but it was Hael that spoke yet again.  
“Well, actually, we were discussing Pastor Novak’s broadcast – ”  
“So no,” Dean cut her off.   
Cas couldn’t help but snicker, and felt Hael’s anger burn into him. “I think you’re being disrespectful to the Pastor, Dean,” she said airily. “Don’t you agree, Hester? Castiel?”  
Hester murmured a soft agreement, clearly uncomfortable to be caught up in this. Castiel dithered. The silence dragged out awkwardly as Hael watched him, her face slowly falling as he did not jump immediately to his Father’s defence. Eventually, mercifully, Dean saved him.  
“You’re right Hael, I was being rude. It’s one of the things I’ve been trying to work on lately.” To anyone who didn’t know him, which was to say almost everyone, Dean sounded earnestly genuine. For Castiel, however, the sarcasm dripping from his voice was practically venomous. “In fact,” Dean continued in the same remorseful tone. “I was wanting to talk to Castiel about it. He’s been helping me you see.” He stressed the word dramatically, Cas was sure it was over the top, but Hael’s eyes only widened in realisation.  
“Oh,” Hael sounded mollified, and she eyed Castiel with a level of impressed surprise that seemed almost affectionate. “I didn’t realise you were helping Dean,” she said to him. Her hand dropped off his arm, and she took a step back. “Hester and I will be with Uriel and the others, feel free to join us later.” With that they were gone.   
Cas felt a weight lift off his shoulders, and he turned to Dean. “Thanks.”  
The other boy shrugged. “Don’t mention it, I’m the one who made it awkward to begin with. Shall we get out of here?” Castiel nodded, and they made for propped open door at the back of the gym. It led out onto the football pitches.  
Silhouetted against the wall, a couple groped and pulled at each other in the night air. Castiel turned away from the writing mass and set off towards the grass. Soon they were both sitting, side by side, as the night darkened around them. They sat in companionable silence, each enjoying the other’s company.   
“What happened with Anna?” Cas asked eventually.  
Dean shifted, embarrassed. “She’s annoyed at me for ignoring her all week.” He explained, “can’t say I blame her. I’m a pretty shitty date.”  
“That’s not true,” Cas protested.  
“Isn’t it?” Dean asked. “I’m the outcast, the weird one. I know what everyone says about me. I don’t know why she said yes in the first place.” His voice cracked, and something in Cas broke. He wanted to scream at the school, at the town, at the world, for doing this to Dean. He wanted to protect him from them, to save him.   
Castiel swung round, grabbing Dean by the shoulders, forcing their eyes to meet. “Listen Dean,” he said fiercely, “everything everybody says about you is wrong. I may not have known you for long, but I know the real you. They don’t. I know that you’re kind, brilliant, hilarious and a million other things. You deserve the world, you aren’t meant to be stuck here with these people. Anyone who can’t see that about you doesn’t deserve you.”  
They were so close now, he could see every detail of Dean’s face. His freckles, the hopeful stubble on his chin, the blush creeping up his cheeks, his lips.   
Dean’s hand was in his hair, when had that happened?   
Their lips were touching. Cas could feel waves of euphoria coursing through his body. He clutched Dean tightly by the shoulders, he didn’t want to let go, this couldn’t end. His eyes were closed, but he could see colours dancing across his closed eyelids. He didn’t care anymore. Everything had melted away, all that mattered was Dean. All that mattered was that this would go on forever.   
Had he kissed Cas? Or had Cas kissed him. Dean didn’t care, couldn’t care. All he knew was that they were kissing and, for the first time, everything made sense. Cas was warmth, he was light. It was as if he were holding the sun. Dean’s whole life had been building to this moment, he thought. All the pain, all the sadness, existed to make this moment perfect by comparison. For the first time, he was happy. Happy in a way he hadn’t known existed until now. He could never could go back. He could never give this up.  
Distantly, a door slammed. Reality reasserted itself, pushing between them, forcing them apart. They stared at each other. Fear was already devouring the happiness within them, disgust soon followed.   
Castiel jumped to his feet. He was shaking. “I’m sorry. This was a mistake.” Was all he said. Then he was gone, running away from the grass, away from Dean.   
“Cas, wait!” Dean called hopelessly after him. He didn’t know what we would’ve said or done, but it didn’t matter, for Cas kept running.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had to watch/read a buncha sermons and stuff to try and write the one in this chapter and it made me realise a few things:  
> 1\. It made me glad my parents raised me a heathen so I never had to put up with any of this stuff  
> 2\. I literally cannot tell the difference between christian satire and actual bigotry anymore  
> 3\. Americans do not know how to say the word "Abomination". seriously guys, there's an "i" in the middle it's not "A-bomb-nation"  
> anywas  
> enjoy

He barely remembered getting home from the dance. He must have made some excuse to Dad and climbed into bed, because that was where he’d found himself.  His life had been replaying behind his eyes. Wasn’t that only supposed to happen when you died? He guessed a part of him had died.

Seventeen years worth of memories had crowded his mind. Suppressed dreams, glances at boys in the street, a sense of longing barely understood the wave of fear that always followed.

He’d always pushed it down, pretended nothing had happened. If he ignored it, it’d go away. He’d be normal. That’s all he’d ever wanted. To be normal.

There was no avoiding it now.

When he did sleep, he dreamed of Castiel. Of their kiss. Of his eyes. When he woke – hours before Sam’s alarm – he was smiling.

He prowled restlessly through the sleeping house. It only added to the confusion within him. He needed space, he needed air. Still in his pyjamas he crossed the back yard, through the gate and down to the river. It was still dark, the stars burned dispassionately above him, same as they always did.

He reached the bank where he, Sam and Cas he skimmed stones. His feet were cold, he’d forgotten his shoes.

He began looking for rocks. It gave him an excuse to move while he thought.

He’d kissed Castiel. Or Castiel had kissed him. Whatever. The fact was they’d kissed.

And he’d enjoyed it. That was the unavoidable truth.

 _What does it mean?_  A voice in is head kept asking.

“You know what it means,” he said aloud. “It means you’re a faggot. A dirty, disgusting, hell bound pervert.”

 _So what?_ The question stopped him, his arm raised mid swing.  As far as most people – Pastor Novak, Uriel and his gang, even John – were concerned Dean was already damned.  But it was wrong, he knew that.

 _Who decided it was wrong?_  God, the bible, his father, Pastor Jim, the whole fucking town, the whole fucking world. He angled the stone in his hand and sent it flying at the river. It bounced once along the surface of the river before sinking.  Frustrated, he began searching for another stone.

 _Since when did you listen to them?_  

As far as most people were concerned, Dean was already damned.

_They don’t know what it’s like._

It had felt so good. Everything had made sense to him. Finally.

He had thought his confusion started when Mom died, he could see now that it had always been there, but her love had helped him cope.

Then she was gone, and there was nothing to fill the void. 

_Until now._

They had said “God works in mysterious ways” or that he “needed another angel”. It was clichéd, stale. To Dean the words had always sounded insincere, said only because they felt they had to say something.

Sammy and Dad...they wanted believe there was somewhere better. But they hadn’t seen the look in Mom’s eyes. He still dreamt about that look. What kind of God would do that to his Mom? She hadn’t deserved the pain, and neither had he.

 _That’s who you’re trusting on what’s right and wrong?_  The voice was insistent.

 _Do you think that kissing Cas was wrong?_  Dad would think it was wrong.

_But do YOU?_

“NO!” he shouted the word at the dark skies. His call echoed across the river he heard it repeated a thousand times. _No no no no no no no no no no..._

He felt better, clearer. He could deal with this. He’d dealt with everything else so far. As long as he had Cas, and Sammy.

Sammy...

The kid was more invested in the church than John was, he took everything to heart. What would he do if he found out...

 _He doesn’t need to know._  The voice whispered. _Nobody else needs to know..._

He smiled, drawing comfort from the words – even if they were coming from a voice in his head. Sometimes you took what you could get.

 

As the sun crept reluctantly over the horizon, Dean headed back to the house. Sam would be waking up soon.  Then it would be time for school, he could see Castiel again.

His heart began to race at the thought, and he smiled. He’d never believed someone’s heart could actually race for someone else, It was like something out of a fairy tale, but here he was.

Doubts still crowded the edge of his mind, but he tried to push them aside. He had to trust himself, who else was there?

                                                ************************************

 

 _What have I done?_  The question haunted Castiel as he tried to sleep. He wanted to forget; maybe it was all just a dream.

 _What have I done?_  He’d ruined everything, again.  Except it was worse than last time, nothing had happened last time.

_Weak. I was weak. I gave into temptation. I gave into sin._

Eventually, he drifted into an uneasy sleep. His dreams were fleeting, abstract. He dreamed of bright light, of pain. Green eyes stared into his. There were tears in them. Were they tears of happiness or joy? He wanted to ask, but he couldn’t make himself speak. When he tried it was his father’s voice that emerged.

He jerked awake. Green eyes still burning in his mind. Dean’s eyes.

Dean...

 _What have I done to him?_  He corrupted him, ruined him. In his weakness he had dragged both of them down.

What he’d done was sick, wrong.

_Abomination._

That was the word wasn’t it? Castiel had grown up to the sermons; he knew what the bible said. Dean would know too. It was impossible not to in a town like this.

 No matter how he acted towards the church, towards his father, Castiel had always believed in God. He needed to, there needed to be Right and Wrong. Otherwise, how would any of them survive?

This was Wrong, there was no avoiding it.

Dean must hate him now. He was right to. Castiel had damned them.

 _No._ He had only damned himself. Dean would be fine, as long Castiel didn’t condemn him further.  He would have to stay away. His heart ached at the thought, but it was for Dean.

The only way for Castiel to save Dean was to let him go.

 

He stayed in bed as the sun rose, its light creeping towards him through a gap in his curtains. He ignored the sounds of his father waking up until he heard a knock on his door.

“Castiel you movin’? You’re gonna to be late if you don’t get up soon.” Jim’s voice was muffled through the door.

School. Dean would be there. Castiel wasn’t ready for it yet. He didn’t want to see Dean, to see the hatred that would surely be there, marring his green eyes, because of what he had done.

“I think I’m sick Dad,” he replied. His voice was shaky, and when Jim stuck his head round the door, concern on his face, he must have looked sufficiently pale.

“You don’t look good son,” Jim hated being sick, he wouldn’t want to get too close. “I’ll call Simon; see if he can’t squeeze you in between patients.”

“No it’s ok Dad.” Castiel assured him, “I think I just need some sleep. If I don’t feel better tonight I’ll go to the Doctor’s tomorrow.”

“Well, you know your own body.” Jim said, already backing into the hallway, “just hope it’s not catching.”

Castiel sighed in relief once he was alone. It was Friday; he wouldn’t have to see Dean again until Monday. By then he could steel himself against temptation. By then he could stay away.

He ignored the pain the thought caused. It was weak, it was sinful.

   

                                                          ******************************

 

Sunday again. How had it only been a week? To Dean it felt like a life time.

Everything was so different. No, everything was the same, it was he who had changed.

Sam’s face had lit up when Dean had agreed to go to church with them again. John had smiled too, and everything had felt normal for a second.

Then he remembered it was only so he could see Cas again, and the guilt had come rushing in. He wondered what they would say, how they would feel, if they knew the truth. He pushed the thought aside. They wouldn’t know. Ever.

Castiel hadn’t been at school on Friday. He had waited outside until well after the bell rung, hoping he was just late. He’d spent the rest of the day on his own.

After school, he’d walked the short distance from his house to Pastor Novak’s. They lived on the other side of town, in a large house next to the church, but it was only a ten minute walk. There wasn’t enough town to make anything far away.

He’d gone to knock on the door when he’d spotted a familiar tall figure through the front windows. Gordon Walker didn’t look much like his son, apart from the age difference he had a slimmer build than his son, but the perpetual look of pomposity made their relation clear to any outsiders. Dean hesitated, hand still poised to knock.

Last time he’d spoken to Pastor Walker it hadn’t ended well. Though Dean doubted the man would actually follow through on any of his curses, he didn’t want rekindle the animosity between them, especially in front of Castiel and his Father. That was why he’d left without knocking he told himself. Not because he was scared. He _wasn’t_  scared.

He couldn’t wait until Monday, he had to see Cas.

 

They decided to walk to church that morning. The oppressive heat of the previous week had softened into something more bearable, and the Winchesters were joined a steady stream of happy churchgoers all heading towards the church.

Dean doubted he would be able to catch Cas before the service began, but afterwards, when people had begun to disperse, they might get a few moments of privacy.

He smiled at the thought. The world seemed to get brighter, the sun warmer, and it was a struggle not to get too far ahead of Sam.

The church was already crowded when they arrived. There were even more people than last week, no doubt drawn by Jim’s radio broadcast of a few days earlier. Dean caught sight of a familiar dark head near the doorway and his heart leapt. Perhaps they would be able to talk earlier after all.

Cas’ head was turned away as Dean approached, he was smiling politely at some well wisher, but he turned and their eyes met.

To Dean’s surprise and horror, Castiel immediately swung away, back into the church. If he’d been a little slower, he would have seen the smile on Dean’s face, the lack of hatred in his eyes, and known everything was okay. As it was, he’d been so sure Dean would despise him that he hadn’t stopped to take in the expression on his best friend’s face.

He took his place at the front of the church, next to Uriel. He could practically feel Dean’s gaze burning into his back but he refused to look back.

Dean had pushed into the church ahead of his father and brother, and he managed to save a couple spaces on the pews while they forced their way towards him. The sheer mass of people was astounding. Dean recognised a few of the younger faces from school, some of them were from towns well over twenty miles away.

Latecomers were crowding the back of the church, willing to stand, it seemed, so that they might hear Jim’s sermon. Before Thursday, Dean had never understood how one person could illicit such adoration. Now he empathised ruefully with the pure happiness radiating from many of the faces. He was no better, enthralled with thoughts of Castiel.

 

The Pastor was taking his sweet time, letting the excitement and anticipation build. When he did eventually emerge, Dean expected to hear cheers and claps, as if he were a rock star and not some small town priest. Instead, an expectant silence swept in waves through the crowd. By the time Jim reached his podium, the hall was silent. Waiting.

“Folks,” the Preacher began, “ I’d like to begin by welcoming all the new faces here today. Our church may be a tad small,” a few scattered laughs permeated the silence, “but the folks in it are good, and I can trust them to be welcomin’ and kind.” He smiled as he surveyed the crowd.

“Yes, you folks are good, the best around,” his face fell suddenly. “But let me tell you, folks like you are a rarity these days.”  The crowd shifted at that, Jim noticed the restlessness. “We’ll get to that later folks, for now let us pray...”

For the first time in a long time, Castiel actually prayed. _Please,_ he thought towards the sky, _please help me be strong. Help me be good. Please..._

Dean’s raised head was a blond beacon of heresy, but he refused to look away from Cas. He was hoping for a repeat of last week, when their eyes had first met. He wasn’t sure what he could convey in a single glance, but he had to try.  Castiel’s head remained resolutely bowed until he heard his father’s “Amen”.

“Now folks, I’m gonna start with a story. It’s about two towns, you might of heard of ‘em. They were called Sodom and Gomorra.”

Suddenly, the gentle heat was oppressive. Dean wanted to get out, but he was pinned by Sam on one side and the Talbots on the other. It would be too suspicious if he tried to leave. In the front pew, Castiel had frozen. To him it felt as if a spotlight was pointed at him.

_Why this? Why now? Does he know? There was no way he could know._

“Now these two towns weren’t like this one. They thought they was above God, safe from his judgement. They were immoral, abhorrent, evil sinners. They tried to defile servants of the lord to satisfy their lust And they paid for it. _‘And the Lord rained down burning sulfur on Sodom and Gomorrah...Thus he overthrew these cities...destroying all those living in the cities.’_

 _“_ Now, to god fearin’ folks like you and me the message is clear. The Lord knows what’s right, it is the lord who decides, and it's in his judgment that we must trust. But folks, to many people that just ain’t the case anymore. The spirit of Sodom is alive to this day. You know who I’m talking about...they like to call themselves “homosexuals”. Sounds nice and scientific right?” he slammed his hand down onto the podium suddenly and the congregation jumped.

“Well I ain’t gonna be so nice!” he all but shouted. “I’m not afraid to call a spade a spade. They’re perverts, faggots,  inebriates, _Abominations.”_

The words seemed to stab at Dean, piercing the fragile armour he’d erected that night at the river. He could feel the doubts he’d so far kept at bay creeping in. _NO, you know what you felt. You have to trust yourself._ He clung steadfastly his happiness. He didn’t dare move, didn’t dare turn to look at Sam. He couldn’t bear to see his expression, to see fervent hatred that emanated from the man on the podium etched into his brother’s face.

“Now, recently, these deviants have tried to justify themselves. They claim that their depraved lifestyle ain’t a choice. That they’re born that way. That they got no more control over it than they do over the colour of their skin.

“Well I say that’s bull. That’s just their last ditch attempt to hide what they really are which is weak.  Each and every one of us is sent temptation everyday. That lady who smiles at you in the street, your neighbour’s fancy new oven, that feelin’ when you stub your toe and you just want to shout out the Lord’s name,” more laughs.

“Each of those and thousands more are sent to us every day to tempt us. The devil wants us covet, to lust, to abandon Christ the eternal in favour of the material. These faggots are no different. It ain’t natural, it ain’t a choice. They were tempted, and they chose to abandon God’s path in favour of Sin.

“Worse, they ain’t content to keep away from the righteous. Oh no. They hide among us, waiting for any sign of weakness. Ready to pounce. They don’t care who they get, so long as they get their kicks. They was willing defile _angels_  for goodness sake, you think they’re gonna draw the line at your wife? Your husband? Your _children_?” The congregation shifted uncomfortably. Kids were drawn closer to their parents, reassuring hands found shoulders to squeeze.

Jim had been steadily increasing his pace as he talked, and he took a few seconds to catch his breath. “Now folks, I know what some of you will be thinkin’. _Jim,_ you’ll be saying to me in your head, _how are we supposed to deal with this? These people could be anywhere. They could be our doctors our lawyers even, god forbid, our teachers. We could be surrounded by sin and not even know it. What are we supposed to do?”_  There were nods in the crowd, murmurs of agreement.

“Well I’ll be honest with you, it won’t be easy.” Jim continued, “but it doesn’t have to be so hard either. Each and every one of you has resisted temptation before, I know it and the Lord knows it and both of us trust that you can do it again. Remain strong, remain vigilant.

“And if you do see someone falling to sin, do not despair. Christ is love, and he will accept any past sinner once they have renounced their evil ways. But,” his tone darkened abruptly, and his voice began to rise again, “if they refuse redemption, if they refuse God, then we must be strong. Once someone has refused forgiveness they ain’t a child of god anymore, they’re a child of sin, of the devil himself. Do not think you can save them, for you may end up damning yourself. Do not be slaves of man, be servants of the Almighty God _For he rescued us from the domain of darkness, and transferred us to the kingdom of His beloved Son!_ ”

The church erupted into cheers. The congregation, overcome with the emotions they had stifled while the Pastor spoke, seemed incapable of calming down. Jim smiled at his handiwork, still panting slightly. He was too caught up in the jubilant faces of the crowd to pay attention to his son.

Castiel was shaking with rage. The reaction had surprised him. He had been steeling himself for guilt, for shame, not anger. After all, he’d been thinking more or less the same way since Thursday. But there was something about hearing his own thoughts spewed from his father’s mouth that weakened them.

How much of what he believed was actually his father’s rhetoric, forced into his brain since childhood? Jim and his mother had never gotten along it was true, but she had never exactly disagreed with him and had often taken Castiel to his sermons when he was in town. 

He had assumed what he felt was wrong. Why? Logically, he knew he had just heard a sermon on why it was wrong, but rather than strengthening his convictions, his father’s speech was causing them to crumble.

He didn’t know what to think anymore.

 


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> shout out to all the awkward romantic encounters that inspired much of this chapter.

“Cas!”  
He had finally caught a glimpse of the raven haired boy, descending the church steps alone. The service was long over, but Dean had hung around as the crowd outside the doors slowly depleted. He had drawn some odd looks, he wasn’t exactly known for his piety after all, but no one had asked him what he was doing.  
Castiel jumped at the call, involuntarily turning towards the noise. The very first think he registered was the happiness in Dean’s expression. This only added to the confusion already churning inside him.  
“Dean?”  
“Who else?” Dean grabbed his arm as they reached each other. Castiel looked around quickly to see who was watching. There were a few figures in the distance. How much could they see?  
Dean had followed Cas’ gaze. “Can we talk?” he asked, tugging on Castiel’s arm. “Privately?”  
Castiel knew he should leave; this was what he was supposed to be avoiding. Instead, he found himself pulling Dean round behind the church. There was nobody around. They were safe.  
“Cas –” Dean began, he wasn’t quite sure what he was going to say, but he didn’t get the chance.  
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” Castiel burst out. Dean could feel him shaking under his hand. “What I did was wrong; it wasn’t fair to you –”  
“Cas,” he said softly, but the other boy was too distraught to hear him.  
“– I was weak, I’m sorry. I know that I’m disgusting and beyond saving, but I don’t want to drag you down. I’ll understand if you don’t want to see me again.” He was crying now, the tremors running through his voice were enough to break Dean’s heart, never mind the tears running down his cheeks. “I’ll stay out of your way I –”  
“Cas!” Dean interrupted again, more forcefully. Castiel came to an abrupt stop, fear clear in his eyes. Dean reached his up to Castiel’s shoulder then, after a moment’s hesitation, stroked his cheek instead, wiping away the tears. “Where’s all this coming from?” He asked gently, “why d’you think I blame you?”  
“I don’t know. I just...I assumed you would be disgusted. Like in there,” he gestured to the church behind him, “or those kids in school. You aren’t dis ...dis...” he didn’t want to finish the sentence, didn’t want to hope. Dean understood him though.  
“No.” He said firmly, almost before Cas had finished talking. “Besides, it’s not your fault. I’m the one who kissed you.”  
“What? No you didn’t. I kissed you first.” Castiel couldn’t, wouldn’t let Dean shift the blame onto himself.  
Dean only laughed. “How’s about we both kissed each other then?” he asked lightly.  
“Dean this is serious. I don’t know what to do, what to think. Everything’s changed. I don’t know we’re going to get back to normal.”  
“I was being serious, look” Dean pulled Cas’ face up so they were eye to eye. “I don’t know much, ok? I don’t know much about God or the world or anything. But I know this: if being normal means being like the people in that church; if it means being like Uriel and Hael then I don’t wanna be normal. Do you really wanna be like them?”  
“No.” He had answered without thinking, but Castiel knew instantly it was true. “I...” he thought about his father’s sermon, the anger he had felt. “I think... I thought I knew what was right and wrong; I thought I knew what God wanted. But... it all comes from my father, and what he thinks. What we did... when we kissed, it felt right to me. But according to everyone else, it’s wrong.”  
“We have to trust ourselves. What we think, what we feel.” Dean said earnestly. He leaned closer to Cas until their foreheads were touching. “That’s the only thing we know for sure is true. I don’t care what God or Jim or Dad or anyone else thinks. All I know is that I liked our kiss, and I like you. All I need to know is if you feel the same way. Do you?”  
Castiel nodded. Dean felt rather than saw it and pure happiness burst to life inside of him. He felt like he should be glowing in the morning sun.  
He pulled Castiel’s lips onto his again, deliberately this time. The other boy responded enthusiastically, pressing closer.  
It was a little awkward, neither one of them had much experience after all. Castiel leaned in a little too heavily, causing Dean to smack into the church wall. He moved both his hands into Cas’ dark hair, but soon found his nose squished uncomfortably against the other boy’s cheek.  
Cas was trying not to lose his balance and fall on top of Dean. He was slightly smaller than the blond boy, and had to reach up. It was causing his legs to shake slightly and he didn’t know how long he could keep this up. He felt Dean pull back, his breath was warm on Cas’ cheek, and the two split apart. Frustrated at their own incompetence, they sat side by side, backs against the wall.  
“it’s a lot harder than it looks.” Dean grumbled, edging closer to Castiel until they were touching. “In movies and stuff they just do it.”  
Cas was too caught up in everything to reply. He felt as if he had been made again, atom by atom, into someone who was at once more himself than he had ever been and completely new.  
Dean watched him fondly, he recognised the look on Cas’ face, knew what he was feeling. He had felt it himself, after all, that night at the river. He wished Castiel had been there so he could’ve watched Dean’s face, seen Dean’s rebirth.  
“It’s amazing right?” he said softly.  
Castiel nodded. “I never thought I would feel this way.” He smiled blissfully at Dean, “I never thought I could feel this way.”  
“Yeah. I knew Dad thought there was something wrong with me, but I didn’t really understand what. Until now.”  
Dean didn’t understand how simply looking at Cas was causing him so much pleasure. He leant his head on Cas’ shoulder, it was all he could do while they sat side by side, but he relished the contact none the less.  
A movement out the corner of his eye sent his head snapping back up. Cas felt cool air fill the space where Dean had been and he turned to see his father approaching. Panic screamed inside him, and he barley heard his Jim’s greeting.  
“...you are son, I’ve been lookin’ for ya.” He noticed Dean as he stopped in front them. “I was glad to see you here today Dean, did you enjoy the sermon?”  
Dean wanted to punch the pastor’s smug smile from his face, he wanted to channel the shame and anger Novak’s sermon had awakened in him back into towards the Preacher. He forced the feelings down and managed a smile. “It was, um, interesting, yeah.”  
Cas could hear the anger in Dean’s voice, or maybe it was projection of his own rage. Either way, he wanted the conversation over before it could start. “Is everything alright Dad?” He was back to his ‘dutiful son’ persona, “do you need anything?”  
“Naw, I’m just headin’ out of town for the day to do a couple visits,” Jim was pleased at Castiel’s apparent thoughtfulness. “I was going ask you along, but if you and Dean have plans?”  
Cas knew he was supposed to go with his father. This time last week, he would’ve, but now he wanted to be as far away as possible from the man. “Yeah sorry, we were going to the library to, um, study.” He tried desperately to keep his tone casual.  
Jim was clearly disappointed, but what kind of father would berate his son for studying? “Alright boys, enjoy yourselves, if you can that is,” He flashed them his toothy smile, the TV one. “But be careful with that librarian, she’ll talk a load of bull at you if you let ‘er, you’ll be there for hours.” He added as he walked away.  
Once he was out of sight, Dean let out a mangled groan of frustration and fear. “That was close, Cas. Real close. We gotta be more careful.” He was getting to his feet as he spoke, reaching down to help Castiel up.  
“You’re right, what do you suggest we do?” Cas checked to make sure they really were alone, so he could keep a hold of Dean’s hand.  
“The library seems as good an idea as any,” Dean suggested as they made their way slowly round the church. “We don’t actually have to study though do we?”  
“There are quite a few tests in the next few weeks, and SATs.”  
Dean groaned again. “Just my luck, you’re a total nerd.”  
Cas laughed, properly laughed, for the first time in days. “It gives us an excuse to hide in a corner for a few hours,” he reminded Dean, revelling in the way those green eyes lit up at the thought. “And I imagine the library will be pretty empty today.” He remembered what Jim had said. “What did my Dad mean? About the librarian?”  
They had reached the front of the church. Although the congregation had long dispersed, they could see people in the streets. Reluctantly, Dean dropped Cas’ hand.  
“Oh you mean Ms. Moseley? Yeah she’s weird.”  
Cas was sure he’d met most of the town by now, or had them pointed out to him in church, but her name was unfamiliar to him. “Moseley? I don’t think I’ve met her.”  
Dean snorted slightly. “Yeah, you wouldn’t ‘ve. She never goes to church : she’s like the only person in town who doesn’t.”  
“Apart from you,” Cas pointed out.  
“Yeah, well that was recent. She’s never gone, far as I know. And she fights with everyone. A lot. But your Dad especially” Admiration coloured Dean’s voice.  
“What do you mean?” Cas was intrigued now. All the adults in town (and the kids too) seemed to worship his father, it would be refreshing to meet someone who didn’t.  
“Well, last year she shouted at Pastor Walker when he tried to have some books removed from the library. It was while Pastor Novak was away, so she could get away with it.” Dean smiled at the memory. “It was in public too, right on main street.”  
“I can’t wait to meet her. What happened with the books?”  
Dean’s smile faltered slightly. “When your Dad came back he went to ‘talk’ to her. He brought the mayor with him. She took the books off the shelves, but I think she still has them. I used to take Sam there a lot, but after that he wouldn’t go near.”  
As they talked, Dean led him away from the church, towards main street. A small, slightly battered building was hidden off the main road. The sign outside was faded and flaking. Cas supposed pissing off the local preacher wasn’t good for funding.  
Inside was slightly better. The peeling chairs and faded carpet didn’t inspire much confidence, but the shelves were clean and the books well ordered. There were conspicuous gaps in them, he realized as he looked around. The theology shelf was particularly patchy. 

The place seemed utterly deserted, Dean noted with relief. He knew Ms. Moseley would be around somewhere, but if they headed to the back she might not spot them...  
“Dean Winchester, don’t even think about sneakin’ in without saying hi!” Both boys jumped guiltily, though Cas wasn’t sure why exactly. A small, dark skinned woman was making her way towards them. Cas didn’t recognise her at all – she’d definitely never been to his father’s sermons. How many other faithless townsfolk, he wondered, had he not met?  
“Hi Ms. Moseley, how you been?” Dean had always liked librarian, though he rarely saw her. She was practically hermit, rarely leaving the library, except to walk to her small house a few streets down. Her husband worked out of town and tended to stay away for weeks at a time.  
“How many times I gotta ask you to call me Missouri? All this ‘Ms Moseley’ nonsense makes me feel old.” Missouri’s eyes twinkled comfortingly as she regarded the two boys. “An’ I’m fine, thanks for askin'. It’s been quiet here, but that’s to be expected,” she turned to Cas, “Your Daddy’s none too pleased with me so people’ve been keeping their distance.”  
Cas was nonplussed. “How did you...?”  
Missouri cut him off with a wave of her hand. “Please, who else could you be?” She smiled kindly at him. “Don’t worry, I don’t hold it against you, I prefer the quiet anyway. Now, I suppose you boys are needin’ books for Sam? He ain’t been here in a while so I know he’s finished the last lot.”  
Dean shifted uncomfortably. He didn’t want to hurt her feelings but Missouri had an uncomfortable knack for picking up on things you didn’t want her to know.  
Sure enough, her face fell as she watched Dean fiddle. “He’s avoiding me too then?” She didn’t wait for an answer. “Well, what can I expect? He’s only young after all.” Her face brightened with interest as she regarded them. “So then, what brings you two in here on a day like this?”  
“Well we were hoping to study. We’ve got some exams and stuff coming up.” Cas explained.  
“Yeah, that’s right. It’s too noisy to concentrate at home.” Dean chimed in  
“Dean Winchester? Studying? Never thought I’d live to see the day” Missouri laughed at the annoyance that flashed in Dean’s eyes. “Don’t get angry at me son you’re smart but lazy and you know it. C’mon, there should a table at the back that ain’t too wobbly.”  
She led them through the deserted library and fussed over them as they sat, bringing them outdated text books(“I’ve been askin’ for the new ones a while now, eventually they’ll have to give in”), despairing at their lack of supplies (“How did ‘ya expect to study without pens exactly?”) and complaining non-stop about the state of the books (“Covered in graffiti, most of it unoriginal and misspelt too!”).  
Eventually, however, they were left in relative seclusion. Missouri retreated to her desk, though occasionally her eyes would drift back to the curious sight.  
Cas had balanced an open book upright in front of them, but that wouldn’t give them the privacy they needed. In the safe darkness under the table, Dean’s hand found his and they clung together, each relishing the paltry contact.  
Above the desk, they started one of the mock tests. It was awkward going with only two hands between them, but they made it work. Dean was surprised to find himself actually learning, that was the advantage of a good study buddy, and Cas too seemed to enjoy explaining the work to someone else.  
“You make a good teacher,” Dean told him after a round of complex math problems had been (more or less) solved.  
“Well I have a good student, that always helps,” Cas replied modestly, though he smiled at the compliment.  
They had shifted even closer, pressing their shoulders together, their heads bent so close they were touching. Neither of them had initiated this. They hadn’t even noticed.  
Missouri had. She watched the two of them pensively. Those idiots probably thought they were being subtle, but there was nothing subtle about young love. She remembered when she had been their age. Everything had been so much bigger then. There were times when she missed those days; when a simple kiss remade the world. If these boys weren’t careful, a kiss could mean the end of theirs.  
“Hey,” Cas whispered to Dean suddenly. “I’ve just realised something.”  
“Uh-huh?”  
“My Father’s out of town for the day – the house will be completely empty. Let’s go there.”  
Dean let out a frustrated sigh. “You mean I’ve been studying like some nerd for nothin’?”  
“I’m afraid so,” Cas replied gravelly. “Nothing except the future.”  
“Well who cares about the future? I live in the now.”  
They brought the books Missouri had brought them up to her desk. She gave them a strange look as they said goodbye.  
“Be careful boys,” her eyes were sorrowful as she spoke. “ I mean that. The world is cruel and it don’t let you forget it. I’m a haven if you need it.” She wanted to say more, she wasn’t sure why she couldn’t. She tried to say it without words, meeting their confused gazes, trying to convey her past and their future through her stare. It seemed to work. She watched as fear and hope warred within them. They would understand, eventually. Hopefully it wouldn’t be too late. Hopefully they wouldn’t be too scared.  
“Now get. Enjoy the sun a while and stop messin’ up my library.” The snappy dismissal signalled a return to normalcy, if such a thing existed for them anymore. They left her alone, surrounded by her books, her mind immersed in memory.  
Out in the street, Dean and Cas were processing what had happened.  
“She knew.” Cas stated, shaken. “How did she know? I thought we’d been careful.”  
“I dunno,” Dean too was overwhelmed. “ But she didn’t seem angry. Or disgusted even.”  
“No, she wasn’t.” Cas mused. A thought occurred to him suddenly. “Do you think she’s...y’know? Like us?”  
“No, she can’t be.” Dean said firmly. “She has a husband.”  
“Yeah, and we both took girls to the school dance. Just because she’s married to a man – ”  
“That’s different, the dance didn’t mean anything.” Dean insisted stubbornly. “Marriage though... It’s better to be alone than to be with someone you don’t love.”  
It was easier to agree, Cas decided, than to shatter Dean’s convictions. “I don’t think it matters anyway.” He said instead. “She was kind. She offered us a safe place. It’s more than anyone else would do.”  
“Yeah, best not to question it.”  
They had been walking as they talked, and soon reached the house. Dean looked around curiously. He had never been in a Pastor’s home before, it was strange to imagine Jim anywhere but the church.  
“C’mon.” Cas was pulling him through rooms before he had a chance to look around. When they entered Cas’ room however, Dean pulled away. Cas made a small noise of protest.  
Dean shushed him, determined to snoop a little first. The walls were covered in pictures, mostly of cities and crowds. He spotted a battered looking camera on the window sill, next to an equally scruffy teddy bear.  
“You like photography then?” he asked, thrilling at the way Cas’ eyes lit up as he began to talk. Dean couldn’t really follow what he was saying, something about exposure times, but he enjoyed the sound of Cas’ voice.  
They had shifted closer, just like in the library. This time, however, there was no one to see them as they embraced. No one to see their lips meet for the third time. No one to see them sink onto the bed. No one to see Dean’s arms wrap around Cas; no one to see Cas’ hands cup Dean’s face.  
No one.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this took forever. I wanted to try a different format for Dean's memories. I'm not happy with how it turned out really, but you never know until you try.

Looking back, Dean could never believe it had only lasted a month. One month, that was all he got.

  There were times when he was sure it had to have been longer. Too much had happened, an entire lifetime, to be contained into those short weeks.

More often, however, he wondered what he had done with the times in between everything that mattered. He’d eat and slept some of it away, sure, but there were other, larger gaps that he couldn’t fill.

Sleepless nights and empty Sundays. Would he have wasted them if he’d known what was going to happen?  Would he have cherished every moment, with Cas, with John, with Sam, if he’d known they were closer to his last than his first? What had fallen through the cracks?

Thinking about that kind of stuff depressed him, so he focussed only on what he could remember. At first, he’d been able to recall every moment with precision. As more time passed, however, his memories began to blend...

They always started in the library. He and Cas had gone almost every day, so it made sense.  Missouri generally left them alone, and the library was generally empty, giving them the privacy that was denied to them in the real world. Occasionally, however, Missouri would talk with them. She had a knack for asking difficult questions (and she always the avoided ones directed at her) but conversation flowed none the less.  It was always easy with her. Around Missouri, they could simply _be_. They were free, for a time, from the constant fear; from looking over their shoulders; from checking both sides of the road before holding hands.

“I’m proud of you boys.” She had told them once.  Dean had forgotten most of the specifics, but he remembered the smile on her face, and the warm glow that had spread through him at the sight. He clung to that smile in his memories, it was the only time an adult had been proud of him, the _real_ him.  “It takes a lot of strength to resist the bull this world throws at people like u –” she corrected herself. “People like you.”

They tactfully ignored the slip up. “It’s because we have each other,” Cas had told her, grasping Dean’s had fondly.

“You’re right about that. Human beings are stronger together, never alone. But even with two of you, it can get lonely.” He hadn’t believed her at the time, he couldn’t believe her. He hadn’t understood then what it meant to be alone.

“I don’t think that could ever happen to us.” He’d said. _Idiot._

“You’ll need friends,” Missouri insisted.

“We have friends. We have family. We have you.” He couldn’t remember now if he’d been joking or not.

She had laughed at that. “Me? I’m an old lady, I’ve lived my life. You need young friends.”

“Well where are we supposed to find them? It’s not as if we can just ask at school.” Cas had said.

“Oh I dunno, might be worth a try,” He’d chimed in. “We can just go up to Michael on Monday: ‘hey you a queer? Wanna be our friend?’ we’ll have slumber parties, braid each other’s hair, the whole deal.” They had been too busy laughing to take in Missouri’s reaction. Dean often wondered if seeing it would have made the truth of their situation apparent much, much earlier. If it would’ve saved them the pain and grief that was to come.

“Naw, you ain’t gonna find many friends here,” she’d said eventually. “But you’re not alone. There are others. They just ain’t here. Don’t forget it now.”

“We won’t,” Cas assured her.

“Good.” She stood briskly, back in librarian mode. “Now, Dean, I know Sam don’t want to see me no more but I just got in the latest Vonnegut, and he _has_ to read it before they declare it ‘ungodly’ like the last time...”

 

“...just go. It’s only for a night: no big deal.” Sam’s room now. This wasn’t about the library – that’d been a no go – this was a few days (maybe a week?) later.

Sam was sitting on his bed, back turned to Dean. Had they been fighting?

“No it’s fine, I don’t want to. Honestly.” Sam’s voice sounded funny.

“Sammy, I know you’re lying.” That must be why he’d turned away. They’d always been able to read each other’s expressions like a book. He’d moved to sit next to Sam on the bed.  “What’s the real reason, just tell me. Please.”

It’d been a sleepover, he remembered abruptly. Sam’d been invited by his friends (Ruby probably) but he’d refused to go.

“I don’t want to leave you alone.” The words had rushed out of Sam’s mouth, practically against his will. It had taken Dean a few seconds to work out what’d he’d said. Then, the guilt had come crashing over him.

“Sammy...” He hadn’t known what to say. He’d always needed Sam, way more than Sam had ever needed him, but it’d never occurred to him that Sam knew too.  That he was holding himself back, for Dean.  And how had Dean repaid him?

Sam had shifted from side to side, embarrassed, until Dean had pulled him into a bear hug. They had sat like that for a long time. Dean treasured the memory; the feel of Sam’s smaller body in his arms; the small shakes, either from laughter or tears he could never tell, even Sam’s smell. It’d been the last time he’d hugged Sam, so he clung to the sensations. Sam would be taller now, he knew, his hair would be different now. But this was all he had left. 

“Hey!” Sam had gasped out eventually, “kinda need to breathe here Dean.”

“Sorry” He’d mumbled, loosening his grip. “Just...hell Sammy, what’d I do to get deserve a little brother like you?”

“You mean because I’m so amazing?”

“Hell no, I mean because you’re such a little bitch.”

“Hey! I was nice to you, Jerk.”

They’d laughed at that. Even now, the remembered sound could brighten Dean’s mood. He’d wanted to do something, to make it up to Sam. Sam hadn’t known then, he hadn’t known that Dean had already abandoned him. Neither of them knew, yet.

“Sammy, I’ll be fine ok? I’m not going to be alone; you should go have fun with your friends.”

Sam had been suspicious. “Who’re you spending the night with then?” His face had brightened suddenly. “Anna?”

“No way,” Dean had said, too quickly. “She’s super pissed at me,” he’d added hastily. “No, I’ll go to Castiel’s. We’re gonna, um, study.”

“You? Study?” Sam had reached a hand up to check Dean’s temperature, laughing again at the indignant look on Dean’s face.

“Sorry, but you have to admit it’s pretty...”

 

“Weird, I know, but I needed Sammy to feel comfortable going to this sleepover.” The scene had shifted abruptly. He was outside Cas’ house now. It was dark. Cas was leaning against the door frame, smiling.

“You don’t need to explain Dean,” He’d said. “Come on in.”

Dean had stepped inside. They’d gone straight to Castiel’s room. Straight to the bed.

“We have to be quiet, My Dad’s home.” Castiel had told him, so in the end they’d just laid together, stretched out on top of the blankets.

“What’re you gonna say if he comes in?”

“We should be fine, he goes to sleep early on Saturdays, but I’ll just say umm...” He drifted into a heavy silence. They both knew how dangerous this was, there was no innocent explanation after all, but neither of them wanted to move into a more acceptable position.  “He won’t come in,” Cas had finished lamely.

“What’re we gonna do Cas?” Dean had forced himself to ask. He’d tried to avoid the thoughts, had pushed them to a far corner of his mind, but they came creeping back every time.

“I don’t know,” Cas had been forced to admit. “Missouri seems to think we should leave, one day.”

“Yeah, I don’t know if I can.”

“Why not? You can’t want to stay?  Not anymore.”

“No, I don’t want to stay,” Dean had said, aware of the contradiction. “But, Sam. I need to be here for Sammy.”

“If you think you need to stay, then I’ll stay too.” Cas declared.

Dean had been rendered almost speechless by this. “Cas, what? I can’t ask you to do that, you should go somewhere safe. Find a family.”

“I have a family. I have you.” Came the firm reply. “I couldn’t leave you. I need you.” _That_ had left him speechless.

“Need me?” he’d managed in the end, voice small.

“Yes,” Cas had sounded worried, probably that he’d pushed too far too soon. He hadn’t said ‘love’ but he might as well have, and they both knew it. Cas hadn’t been able to see the pure happiness his words had instilled inside Dean.  He’d been so happy, it’d taken him a while to get his own words out.

“Castiel,” He’d tried to convey every ounce of his feelings into this one sentence. “I _need_ you too. I _love_ you too.”

 He’d kissed Cas then, not caring how loud they were.  Jim, John and Uriel could’ve walked in at that moment and he wouldn’t of cared. He loved Cas, Cas loved him. That was all that mattered.

Had it really been love, he wondered all this time later. It had certainly felt like love. Or so he assumed. It had felt real, realer than anything he’d ever felt before. But at that age, everything felt real. When he’d first kissed Cas, he sworn nothing could ever feel so good, until the next time they’d kissed.

If he saw Cas today, would his heart still dance at the sight of him? The way it had back then? Or would he now just be another face? To be passed over in a crowd. A stranger. The thought pained him more than he could admit.

 

 

Was this how Dad had felt; after Mom had died?

“You look like her, y’know?” The words came, echoing cruelly out of the recesses of his memories. They were his father’s, but there was a sadness to them that was eerily out of character for John. He tried to place the memory.

They were sitting at the table. It must’ve been late. John had a beer bottle in front of him, but he wasn’t drunk. Not yet at least.  They’d just been sitting, talking.

“I look like Mom?”

“Yeah, not exactly mind you, but you have the same eyes.” John had continued, lost in memories. “When I look at your eyes, sometimes, I see hers. It’s too much.” He’d looked up at Dean then, remorse plain on his face. “I’m sorry Son, you shouldn’t have to deal with this. With any of it.”

“It’s ok Dad,” he’d needed to reassure his father, but his voice had cracked traitorously.

“No it’s not Dean,” John had sighed. “I expected you to be an adult after Mary’s death: I treated you as if you were. I was so worried that you’d lost your way. Instead of trying to help you back onto the right path, I pushed you further into the mud.” He’d managed a weak smile. “But, you’re back on track now Son, I know I don’t have to worry about you anymore. I’m proud of you.”

In retrospect, Dean could hear how rehearsed those lines were. How clichéd, how un-John like they’d been. At some level, he must’ve known it at the time. But he’d been so grateful that his father had even tried, and so assuaged by guilt that any doubts were immediately quashed.

John had fallen for his lie. He thought Dean was the model son once again, back on the road to happiness. In reality, Dean was only pretending to be his son.

 

He’d told Cas about it the next day at school. Sometimes, that was what he missed the most, having someone he could talk to about everything.

They’d been laughing about, something, when Hael had come over. she’d done that sometimes, seemingly incapable of living her own life.

“Don’t you have literally anything else to do?” Dean had asked as she approached.  Hael had ignored him, as was her custom, focussing entirely on Castiel.

“Castiel, we would like to talk to you.” She’d informed them. She’d thrown Dean a venomous look. “Alone.”

“What’s the matter?” He’d asked, unable to help himself. “Need help with a book burning or something?” beside him, Cas had laughed, causing both Hael and Dean’s cheeks to flush. For him, it had been pleasure at the sound. For her, it had been anger.

“He can speak for himself,” she’d snapped at Dean. “Or are you so bent on corrupting him that he’s not allowed to talk to anyone else?” They’d glared at each other, Dean trying to think of a witty response.  

“What do want Hael?” Cas had asked wearily. “Whatever you want to ask me, just say it now. I’m sick of playing your games.”

Hael had switched her focus back to Castiel. When she started speaking, her words were flat and prepared. “This has gone on long enough, Castiel. We know what you’ve been trying to do with Dean, and we think it’s clear that you’ve failed.”

A snort of laughter from Dean had brought emotion back into her voice. “Oh, you may be going to church again but you’re still an arrogant, petulant, disrespectful –”

“Dean’s the arrogant one?” Cas had broken in, his voice quivering with a mixture of anger and disbelief at the hypocrisy of it all. “You interrupt us, insult Dean and our friendship but somehow he’s being disrespectful?”

“I asked to speak to you alone,” Hael snapped back. “You’re the one who insisted on doing this here.” She’d taken a deep breath and tried to continue. “We’re still willing to offer the hand of friendship to you Castiel.  Considering who you are, who your father is, we think it’s best for you.”

“Do you ever think about anything that’s not my fucking father?”

Both Hael and Dean had been rendered speechless at the outburst. The bitterness in Cas’ voice was almost too much for Dean. He wanted to reach out, to squeeze Cas’ hand. But he couldn’t of course, not while they here.

“Please,” Cas continued, voice low with rage. “Will you leave me alone? I don’t want anything to do with you anymore.” They’d been saved by the school bell, which had forced Hael to return to her seat.

This, he’d realised, was the moment it had all gone wrong.  If he’d been nicer to Hael, if Cas hadn’t been provoked into his outburst. Maybe nothing would have happened. Or maybe it would’ve. Back then he’d been naive enough to think they could’ve hidden forever, now he knew better. Sooner or later the truth always came out.

He just wished it’d happened later.

He didn’t have to reach for the next memory, it was always there. It would always be there. How was it that the good memories faded while the bad ones refused to leave?

He and Cas had left class as soon as the bell rung, not wanting to be ambushed by Hael again.  They’d hidden around the back of the school, waiting for John to pick them up.

To Dean’s relief, the playground was empty, and he’d immediately pulled Cas into a tight embrace. He’d felt the other boy’s arms tighten around him. “Thank you Dean.” He’d said into Dean’s shoulder.

“S’ok. It killed me that I couldn’t do this earlier.” He’d pulled Cas’ face up towards him for a long, drawn out kiss. They’d gotten much better since their first awkward attempts; they’d gotten good at tuning the world around them as well. Too good, it turned out.

“ _What the Fuck?_ ” The strangled sound had echoed across the empty grounds, and they’d sprung apart instantly. It’d been too late of course, and Dean often wished the kiss had lasted a little longer, it wouldn’t have made a difference after all, except to make Uriel sick.

Instead, they’d been confronted with his ugly, stupid face contorted into a perversion of glee.

“Uriel,” Cas had taken a step towards the other boy. “Please, this isn’t –”

“I knew it!” Uriel had crowed over him. “I knew there was something wrong with you.” His eyes had flashed to Dean, who’d had to fight down a sudden wave of shame at the pure derision in that glance. “ _Both_ of you.” With that he’d turned and ran.

There’d been no point in going after him, what could they have said? What could they have done? That hadn’t stopped them from trying, of course.  They’d caught site of his small figure, reuniting with his friends at the last bus. They’d had to watch, helpless as he’d climbed on, and the bus had pulled away. He’d get home first.

“What do we do?” Cas had asked. His voice had been so small and scared. It had terrified Dean. He’d needed Cas to be strong.

“I don’t know. But we can’t stay here.” He’s said, grabbing Castiel’s hand and pulling him away from the school. “We can’t wait for Dad, I don’t think I can be in a car with him.” His voice had cracked at the thought of John, and Sam _. God, what will Sammy say?_  “We’ll have to walk. It’ll take a couple hours. That should give us some time.”

“Yes Dean.” Was all Cas had said, as they’d walked off.

 

There was so little left of that month for Dean. More and more faded every time. He’d tried to write things down, to make them permanent, but it wasn’t the same. He’d never be able to create words that accurately described Sam’s laugh or the taste of Cas’ lips. Nothing could capture the feeling, the freedom, the happiness of that time.

One day, he was sure, he’d wake up and remember nothing at all. He’d be left with only the memories of the memories. But until that day, he’d treasure every single second.

It was the only part of home he had left.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 3 in 1...

The town of Olsburg seemed to grow out of the horizon. Dean and Cas walked as slowly as they dared but the houses came closer and closer with every step. They’d avoided the road, kept to the fields, so no one had seen them. Yet.

“Is this the end?” Cas’ voice was small. “Of us, I mean.” His mind had raced far ahead of his body: a thousand scenarios of what awaited them ran through his head.

Dean too had ideas of what was coming. None of them were good. He couldn’t say any of them out loud.

He would have to lie instead.

“No.” He tried to convey strength he didn’t feel into the word. “We love each other. It’ll be enough. It has to be.” They were screwed otherwise.

Cas grabbed his hand, hard enough to bruise. “It will be. We’ve done nothing wrong” He could see the conflict in Dean, could see how strong he was trying to be, for Cas, and how fragile he truly was. “You’ve done nothing wrong, Dean.” His voice was full of conviction now, and Dean tried to believe him. 

They came together for a last, desperate kiss. One part of Cas wanted to be gentle, to savour every second and store every detail. The rest of him just wanted to let go, to pull Dean as tight as he could so that they could never be separated again.

That couldn’t happen, of course.

The sound of wheels on the road was all the warning they got.  

“Get the fuck away from my son you fucking faggot!” Dean felt rough hands pulling him back, away from Cas. He twisted, catching the white flash of Pastor Walker’s smug grin before he was shoved towards the waiting car.

He was crowded into the back seat. He heard the lock click with a deafening finality as Pastor Walker settled behind the wheel. Dean twisted to watch Cas’ being led to another car by his father. Even in the dim light, he knew Cas was trying to meet his gaze, trying to see his face.

“I always knew there was something wrong with you Winchester.” Gordon was gloating, trying to get a rise out of him. He stared sullenly out the window, doing his best to ignore the older man. “Never would’ve guessed you were a queer though,” The pastor continued. “No, not John Winchester’s boy.”

Dean had thus far been avoiding thoughts of his father. His involuntary shudder pleased Pastor Walker, for he continued, mercilessly. “He’s not taking it well, I’m afraid. This year’s been hard enough on him already, what with Mary passing, and now you’ve gone and made it that much worse.”

“Shut up!” Dean couldn’t take anymore. “We haven’t done anything wrong.”

“Your boyfriend tell you that?” Gordon asked dismissively. “Well he’ll be changing his tune soon enough, once he sees what you’ve condemned him too.” As he spoke they were pulling in to the Novak driveway. Dean barely noticed, he was trying to sort through Gordon’s words.

“The hell are you talking about?” He asked eventually, struggling to keep his tone flippant.

Pastor Walker turned so he was looking straight into Dean’s eyes. “I’m talking about Hell boy. That’s where you’re both headed. Ain’t you been listening to our sermons? Now you,” he stabbed a thick finger at Dean, “ain’t no shocker. You’ve been a pain in the ass for far too long. Truth be told, we’d all given you up as a lost cause – ‘cept for John of course. But Castiel? He was good, his father’s son through and through. He could’a done the lords work, and done it well, until now. That’s on you Winchester. You ruined that boy’s chance for greater things. He may not see it now, but he will one day. I wonder what he’ll think of you then?”

Every word cut into Dean like knives. He half expected to see blood welling on his arms, instead of the tears that were welling in his eyes. Gordon watched him struggle not to cry, enjoying the spectacle. How often had the older Winchester left him catatonic with rage? His constant snipes and comebacks had irked Walker to no end and it was satisfying to finally see him rendered speechless.

“Come on,” He snapped eventually. “The others’ll be waiting.” He escorted Dean up towards the house. As he did so, Dean saw his father’s car parked on the street. His heart, which had fallen permanently to his stomach hours ago, somehow managed to sink to knees. He’d never felt anything this bad before, even when Mom had died, but something told him it was about to get a whole lot worse.

***

 

Castiel’s car ride had been silent. Jim had refused to look him, had kept his eyes fixedly on the road, his hands white fists around the wheel.

Castiel had watched the taillights of the car in front. Dean was in there. Was it like this for him? He hoped so. He didn’t want to hear what his father would say. He didn’t want to hear what anyone would say.

_We’ve done nothing wrong. I love him. He loves me. It’ll be enough._

He needed to be strong. Over the past month he’d built up reserves of happiness. Memories and sensations that he could hide behind as he stood next to his father, that let him tune out whatever hate was being spewed.

He’d need every single happy moment to get through the next few hours.

_It’ll be enough._

All too soon, they were pulling into his driveway. His father placed a hand on his shoulder and steered him through the front door.

_It’ll be enough._

Dean was already there. Sitting alone in a chair in the middle of the room, staring determinedly at the floor.

_It’ll be enough._

In the corner of the room, also refusing to look at anything but the carpet, John Winchester stood, arms crossed. Cas couldn’t read any emotion on his face, but he shrank from his intensity never the less.

_It’ll be enough._

A smug cough drew his attention, and with a jolt of hatred he saw Uriel.  He was standing next to his father, a triumphant smile on his face as he watched Castiel’s disgrace. Cas could feel the anger bubbling inside of him, it took all his self control not to walk over and punch the arrogance off the small boy’s face. Instead, he walked, head high, to the seat next to Dean’s.

He remembered what Dean had asked him, that first Sunday: _“Do you really wanna be like them?”_  He’d made his decision then, and he was sticking to it now.

Dean had finally torn his eyes from the floor to meet Cas’. The determination, the anger he saw, galvanised him. He managed to plaster a weak grin on his face, and meet the glares of the two Pastors and Uriel. He avoided John’s corner, however.

                                                      

“Why don’t we start,” Pastor Novak began, voice controlled, “by havin’ Uriel tell you two what he saw?”

“We already know what he saw. We don’t need the play by play.” Dean spat bitterly. And then, because he couldn’t help himself, “unless you’re into that?”

Red blotches spread over Jim’s face and he took a step towards Dean as if to strike him.

“Dean,” John’s warning cut across the room. “Don’t you dare open your fucking mouth again!” The pure, unadulterated hatred in his words was enough to drain Dean’s defiance and he dropped his gaze to the floor once more.  John too retreated into his corner as Pastor Novak composed himself.

“You truly are unrepentant.” He told Dean. “Now tell them what you saw Uriel.”

“I saw you two. Kissing.” Uriel seemed to expect some kind of reaction from them. “Each other.” He added, redundantly.

When all they were greeted with was silence, Jim tried a different angle.

“We just want to hear your side of the story boys,” He pushed gently. “Castiel,” he laid a gentle hand on his Son’s shoulder, “I know it must have been an awful surprise for you, what Dean did.”

Finally, Castiel stirred. “What are you talking about?”

“Don’t think you have to stand up for him just because he’s your friend.” His voice was soft, friendly, sweet. It made Castiel want to throw up. “If he attacked you, if he forced himself on you. Just say. It won’t be your fault.”

“No! He didn’t!” Cas’ indignant cries raised his father’s ire once more. He all but shook his son off the seat as he grabbed him.

“Yes he did! He must’ve! You can’t be – ­”

“What? Gay? Queer? Why not? Because I’m a Pastor’s son? Because I’m too pure? Or is it just because I’m _your_ son?” Cas was shouting in earnest now, on his feet.

“Jim!” Gordon Walker forced himself between father and son. “I think you should go sit on the couch. The situation is obviously too personal for you right now. I’ll handle it. Novak was breathing heavily as he crossed the room, glaring at Dean the entire time.

“Castiel, sit down. Now” There was nothing else he could do, so he obeyed. “Okay good. Now, you boys know what Uriel saw. We want to hear your side.”

“What do you want us to say?” Cas asked.

“Well, if you admit to what you did and repent that’ll be it for you. The lord is tolerant of small wrongdoings, so long as you beg his forgiveness.”

 “But we did nothing wrong!” Cas protested indignantly. Dean remained silent through all of this, and Cas was beginning to worry.

“Son.” Gordon talked as if to a very stupid child, “homosexuality is sinful, abominable. You must repent now, before it is too late.”

“It’s not a sin. I love Dean, he loves me.”

“Is that what you told him?” Jimmy was on his feet again, striding towards Dean. He grabbed the other boy by the arms and pulled him forward, off the chair. From his corner, John Winchester watched, silent. “Is this the lies you told my Son? Is that how you lead him astray? You liar! People like you can’t love, all you do is take and corrupt and destroy!” Spit was flying from his mouth; his eyes were wide, unfocussed.

Both Walkers watched from the sidelines, content to watch Dean break under such concentrated fury

“Dad! You’re hurting him,” Cas tried to force his way between the two as Gordon had done earlier, but he lacked the strength.  Nevertheless, the pastor’s grip on Dean was loosened, and he was able to pull away, stumbling as he did so.

Cas reached out to steady him, and felt the tiny shakes Dean was trying to suppress. For the moment, reality faded, leaving them only with each other.

“Dean, don’t listen to them. They’re wrong remember? What do they know? Nothing nothing nothing. We have each other. That’s enough.”

Dean straightened, under control. “Yeah, it’s enough.” He smiled as Cas. It was small, and shaky, but it was real. It was enough.

They turned to face the room. “We aren’t sorry, we aren’t gonna say we’re sorry and we’re sure as hell not gonna repent just to make you happy.” Dean declared. He expected shouting, praying, something.

“I’m sorry to hear that,” was all Pastor Walker said. “Now, we ain’t cruel boys. We just want you to accept the Lord’s love. You’ll be gettin’ another chance when you’ve had some time to think about what you done.”

“Yeah I think we’ll pass.”

“In the meantime,” Gordon continued as if Dean hadn’t spoken, “We’ll be keepin’ a close eye on you to make sure you don’t stray again. We’ve ignored your transgressions too long Dean, and looked where it’s landed you. We talked it over with your Da’ and as long as you agree to this, you can stay at home. You too Castiel.”

Dean felt a chill spread throughout his body. It had never occurred to him that he couldn’t go home. What about Sam? Where were they supposed to go? “And if we don’t agree?” He asked. He had to.

“Then it will be up to John and Jim as to what they do to you. Do we have a deal?”

“Yes.” Of course Dean had to say yes. He could put up with babysitters and sermons if it meant he could stay with Sam.

“What choice do I have?” Cas asked bitterly.

“Well now that that’s settled I think everyone should head home. It’s late.” Gordon beckoned Uriel to follow. At the door he turned to Dean and Cas once more. “Believe me, one day you two will thank us. You’ll be pleased we caught you so early and cured you before it was too late. Goodnight Jimmy. John.” With that they were gone.

“Dean,” John barked, striding to the door without so much as glancing at his Son. “Let’s go.”

The car ride home seemed to take forever. John had pointed to the back and Dean had climbed in without protesting. He wanted to say something, but he wasn’t sure what. Not an apology. An explanation maybe.

“Dad –”

“You are _not_ my son.” John cut him off vehemently, the first words he’d spoken to Dean in a long time.

“What do you mean? I’m still me, Dad, I’m still Dean.”

“I didn’t raise no fucking queers, you hear me?” John veered dangerously across the road as he said it, his hands tightening on the steering wheel unconsciously. “I don’t know who the fuck you are, but you are not my son. Not anymore. My son is gone.”

“Dad –”

“What did I just say?”

Dean fell silent, head reeling. It would be so easy to pretend, to fake remorse, to ‘repent’ so that everything could go back to normal. But the very thought of it, of going back to the fake life and the fake feelings made him want to die. He couldn’t live a lie, not again.

He was stuck with the truth now, no matter how shitty.

 


	8. Chapter 8

“Castiel.” Jim’s voice was weak and shaking, so far removed from the confident preacher that normally stood before him. “Son, what went wrong?”

“Nothing’s gone wrong! Why won’t you see that?” Cas was done. He wanted to go sleep, to pretend nothing had changed.

“It’s all my fault,” his father ignored him. “I haven’t been there for you, I was too prideful. I didn’t notice that you’d been pulled off the righteous path.” He was muttering to himself, or to God perhaps. “What do I do lord?”

“Listen to me!” He was sick of listening to the endless appeals to god, he was sick of ‘paths’ and ‘redemption’.

Jim’s attention snapped back to his son. “No son, you need to listen. Not to me, not to that Winchester fag but to God. You know what you’re doing is bad, you just ain’t accepted it. And by doin that you ain’t just taking yourself to hell, you’re hinderin my efforts to save others. You think anyone’s gonna listen to a Preacher with a queer for a son?  Stop thinkin of just yourself.”

“And if I don’t listen?”

“Well if I can’t make you renounce your sins, I’ll find someone who can.” The threat was too naked to be anything but serious. It was offset by a gentle hand on his shoulder. He flinched. “Son,” Jim’s voice was soft, loving. “You’ll make things so much easier if you just admit what Dean’s done to you was wrong. Just think about what’s happened. You’ll soon see the truth”

_I’m already starting too._

 

***

 

 

Sam was already in bed, thankfully. Dean made for their room when a rough hand on his shoulder stopped him.

“You’re not sleeping in there.” John informed him. “You are not to go near my son, especially while he’s sleeping. Use your own bed like a goddam man.” The words stung more than anything Dean had heard that night, which was saying something.

“Do  you think I’d hurt Sammy?”  He protested. “He’s my brother.”

“You can’t be trusted around him. This sharing bullshit has gone on long enough anyway.”

Dean was beginning to panic. “No, please, Dad. You don’t understand. I need Sam. I can’t...I can’t be alone. Please.” He begged, caution and pride thrown to the wind. It was this, the grovelling desperation, so unlike the Dean he knew, that pushed John over the edge.

“Dean, so help me god if you don’t get in your own room right now, I will lock you in there myself.”  To emphasise his point, he pulled Dean away from Sam’s door across the landing. The look in Dean’s eyes was one of utter betrayal but John refused to be moved by it. Dean had denied his problem, he would have to face the consequences.

“Please...”

Losing what little was left of his patience, John pushed Dean into his room. “You will not corrupt Sam.” He ordered. “First I lost Mary, now I’ve lost you, I’m not risking Sam.”

“You haven’t lost me, Dad. I’m right here. I’m – ” John shut the door in his face.

 Dean forced himself to stay calm. It would just be for tonight, John was hot headed but he cooled off with a good night’s sleep. He would be fine one night on his own.

His room was too quiet. He wasn’t used to sleeping without the noise of someone else breathing near him. He wanted Sam. He wanted Cas. He wanted Mom.

Mom...

_He must of fallen asleep, for there she was. Smiling at him in the way that only she could. She was just as he remembered her. Blonde hair, giving way to gray. Her smile was lined by deep wrinkles, her ‘smile lines’ as she’d always called them._

_He  missed her warmth, her softness, her smell. He missed her jokes, her out of tune singing voice. Most of all he missed her. Her presence, her laugh, her._

_“Mom.” He ran to hug her, but his arms passed straight through, and her image flickered, replaced by another one._

_“No.” He knew what was coming, it always came._

_Mom was paler now, she was shaking, she was scared. Her eyes were drooping shut, and she was swaying on the spot._

_“Mom?”_

_“Dean. Pleash,helpf” Her words were wrong, they were slow and slurred._

_Now she was falling and he was screaming and screaming, for Dad, for Sam, for God but no one was coming._

_He hadn’t reached her in time, her head had smacked off the kitchen floor and there was blood and vomit and she wouldn’t stop shaking._

_“Mom! Mom! Please, Mom! Help someone please help! God please someone help!”_

_There was a terrible choking noise and then nothing. Just the silence. No breathing, no heartbeat, just nothing._

 

His own sobbing woke him.  

There were voices from behind his bedroom door.

“...ck to bed Sammy.” That was John

“It’s Sam and I heard Dean crying. Is he ok? Why’s he in there. Why isn’t he with me?”

“Sam I mean it: go back to bed. Dean’s fine. It’s just time for him to sleep on his own again.”

“But why Dad? And why are you sitting outside his room? Why can’t I go in?”

“Sam, I’m gettin tired of these questions. Go. To. Bed.”

A short silence. “Fine. Good night Dad.”

“Night Son.”

 

***

 

Sam eyed Dean suspiciously over breakfast. “What happened last night anyway?” His back was to John, so he missed the warning glare that flashed from him to Dean.

“Nothin’ Sammy,” Dean tried to smile. It looked all wrong. He ruffled Sam’s hair to distract him. “I’m just tired of your snoring is all.”

“Hey, stop doing that! And I don’t snore!”

“How would you know? You’re asleep.” It was almost normal again.

“Sammy get your bag.” John had been watching from the doorway. “Time for school.”

“What about Dean?”

“He’s gettin the bus.” John held up a hand, forestalling any questions.

“I don’t want to hear it. Now get in the car.”

Sam watched his brother’s face, but aside from a flicker in his eyes, he betrayed no emotions. “I’ll see you later Sammy. Gotta catch the bus.”

***

Uriel, it seemed, had been assigned as Cas’ permanent guard. It reminded him of his first few days, before he knew Dean, except worse.

“It will be good for you, Castiel.” Uriel told him as he was escorted between classes. “Once you’ve had time away from the Winchester you will see clearly what he’s done to you.” He had assumed the role of Preacher in the absence of their fathers. “Soon you will be back on the right path.”

“Will you just shut up?” How was he supposed to take five minutes of this, let alone a whole day?

“Careful now, Castiel,” Uriel didn’t even bother to keep the gloating tone from his voice. “You wouldn’t want your father to think you’ve been disrespectful would you?”Silence was his only reply.

He barely spoke for the rest of the day. He managed to block out Uriel and the others, for the most part, and concentrated instead on finding a way to talk to Dean. He had no doubt that they were being kept apart, but he might have a chance in the last class of the day. He all but ran to the classroom, managing to shake off Uriel. He’d pay for it, but it would buy him the time he needed.

His heart leapt when he saw the familiar shoulders slumped across the desk, a large part of him had worried that Dean wouldn’t even be in, and he sprinted across the room. “Dean.”

 “Cas,” Dean was relieved to see a face that wasn’t dripping in hate. “How’s your day been? Awful? Mine’s been awful.”

“I don’t have long, Uriel will be here soon. This weekend, go to the library. Go both days, just whenever you can get away. Stay as late as Missouri will let you. I’ll do the same, we’ll be able to talk properly.”

Dean nodded. It was a smart plan, nobody would think to look for them there. He caught sight of a familiar face in the doorway, looking flustered. “Looks like your babysitter’s caught up,” he told Cas.

“I’m sorry Dean.” Cas forced himself to turn away, to walk towards Uriel’s cluster of desks. He focussed on their plan. It was Tuesday, he had to get through four days before he could see Dean.

***

Cas woke early on Saturday morning, long his father, and dressed as quietly as he could. The library wouldn’t open for hours yet, but if he wasn’t out the house before Jim was up he wouldn’t get a chance to slip away.

He wandered through empty streets, killing time. He was noticing more and more how monotonous his town was. Everything looked the same. Squat, ugly houses sat behind bland, square lawns bordered by neat, wilting flowers. Even the people, the few that were out early, seemed to blend together. Only the street signs assured him that he wasn’t walking in circles.

Eventually he ran out of town, and was soon walking along the empty highway. He couldn’t go too far, not if he wanted to get to the library on time, but for now he preferred the endless wheat fields to the town.

The sounds of nature were more prominent here, the human noises of the town fading away, which helped to clear his mind somewhat.

They needed a plan. Urgently. Castiel had considered hundreds of options, and discarded them all. Every plan required either a car or a miracle, both of which were hard to come by if you were a queer teenage boy.  He’d even briefly contemplated calling his Mom, but he knew she wouldn’t accept Dean anymore than Jim had.

 

The uniformity of the road was broken by a long shape in the distance. It was a small bus stop, one he hadn’t known existed and he stopped to it out. This must be where you caught the school bus, if the graffiti that covered the walls was any indicator. Underneath several layers of dicks and profanities Cas could just about discern a timetable. A smile crept over his face as he examined it. There was a plan, a real plan, forming.

Buoyed by his discoveries, and the prospect of seeing Dean, he turned back towards the town.

 


	9. Chapter 9

Cas walked slowly, and arrived at the library just as it opened. He could feel the weight of the past few days lift of his shoulders as the small building came closer and closer. Aside from seeing Dean, assuming Dean could get away, he would be glad to see Missouri. It would be nice to see a friendly face again.

But Missouri wasn’t in her usual spot. Instead a grumpy, old and conspicuously white woman glared at him from Missouri's desk. “Um. Good morning.” He said, awkwardly. A slight ‘hmpf’ was her only reply, her mouth twisting.

“Where’s Missouri, if you don’t mind me asking?”

“Who?” She snapped at him. He sensed he’d done something wrong, but he wasn’t sure what.

“Um, the librarian?”

“Oh you mean _Mrs Mosley?_ She’s out of town for the weekend.” Her tone was clipped, resentful.

That was just his luck, Castiel reflected grimly as he retreated to their normal table at the back. He grabbed a random book off the shelf, and tried to read it. The words floated before him, more squiggles than language as he willed Dean to arrive soon. Somehow he doubted this old lady would be as accommodating as Missouri.

He was there for about an hour, during which he managed to read about three pages, when Dean arrived.

It took every ounce of control in Castiel’s body not to run to him there and then.  Dean too looked about ready to jump into Cas’ arms, until he spotted Not-Missouri glowering at him. His face fell as he glumly took the seat opposite Cas.

“Hello Dean.” Cas’ gravelly voice brought a relieved smile to Dean’s face.

“Cas,” he breathed. “You have no idea how good it is to see you.”

 “Has it been bad?” It was a stupid question, of course it had been bad, but Cas wanted to ask it anyway.

Dean nodded. “Yeah, it’s been hell. Dad’s not letting me anywhere near Sammy, he’s afraid I’ll ‘corrupt’ his  remaining son or something. It’s been kinda lonely, nothing I can’t handle though.” His tone was deliberately light, but Cas’ heart twisted at his words. He noticed the dark circles under Dean’s eyes, his hunched posture.

 “What about you Cas? Every time I’ve seen you, you’ve had Uriel sitting on your shoulder. That can’t have been much fun.” He dreaded to think what Uriel would be like with his superiority complex ‘confirmed’.

“Uriel’s bearable, just. I can  just tune him out most of the time. It’s my father that’s the problem.”

“He’s not hurting you is he?” Dean had tensed with worry and anger.

“No, no,” Cas rushed to assure him, “but he wants to talk all the time, wear me down with guilt until I crack and repent. He keeps trying to make me blame _you_ Dean.”

Dean shrugged. “Not surprised. You’re his son, the golden child. I’m the resident heathen.”

“Dean I’m scared for you. I don’t know what he’ll do to you.”

“Don’t worry about me Cas, I’ll cope with whatever they throw at me. If it’s easier you should just push it all on to me.”

Cas wasn’t sure if he wanted to hug Dean for his altruism or slap him for his  disregard of his own safety. “Don’t be stupid Dean, I’m not throwing you under the bus. I have a plan. I think we can get out.”

“Really?” Dean didn’t sound hopeful.

“Yes. I found the bus stop, the one outside town. There’s a bus every Wednesday night that goes to the city. From there, we can go anywhere. We can get to the other side of the country if we have to.” 

“But where will we go? We won’t know anybody.”

“That’s the point.” He didn’t understand why Dean wasn’t happy about this. “We won’t know anybody, and they won’t know us. If we go to a city, if we go to New York or California, nobody will care. We’ll just be two kids from Kansas, we’ll blend into the background.”

“That’s not what I mean.” Dean didn’t want to destroy Cas’ hope, but he needed to make him see. He tried to be gentle. “Where will we live. How will we eat?”

“we can get jobs...” Cas faltered, the gaps in his plan were becoming clearer and clearer. But still, anything was better than staying here.

“I don’t know how much it costs to live in a city, but I’ll bet it’s a lot. And the kinda jobs we’d get wouldn’t pay enough.”

“But ...”

“Besides,” Dean interrupted. Under the table, he put his hand on Cas’ knee in an effort to take the sting out his words. “I can’t leave.”

“What?” Cas was aghast  “How can you want to stay after all this?”

“I have to stay. For Sammy. He’s already lost Mom, he can’t lose me too.” Dean’s voice was firm, but toneless. His face expressionless, shaking shoulders were the only sign of emotion.

“Dean...”

“I’m sorry Cas.”

“No, you’re right Dean.” Cas had deflated, the good mood from his walk gone. “I just wanted to leave so badly I didn’t think.”

“I understand that. But think about it. We’re graduating at the end of the year. You’re smart Cas, book smart, like Sammy. I’ll bet you can get into college, any college. That gives you an out that doesn’t end with you in some alley somewhere. It’ll just take time is all.”

“My father wouldn’t let me leave without ‘repenting’.”

“So repent.” Dean said simply. “You don’t have to mean it. We pretended all our lives. We can pretend a little longer.”

“I thought we wouldn’t have to pretend anymore, I thought our love would be enough.”  Cas lamented.

“I thought so too Cas,” Dean said mournfully. “But, it’s only been four days and I’m exhausted. I need Sam back,  I need you back.”

It was true, Cas had felt Dean’s absence from his life as if it were a missing limb. It wasn’t enough to rely on memories of love when all that surrounded you was hate.  “How should we do it?” he asked eventually.

“It should be easy. Tonight, say to Pastor Novak that you want forgiveness. Just tell him what he wants to hear the most, put all the blame on me, call me a demon if you think he’ll buy it.”

“No, I don’t want to hurt you.”

Dean held a hand up. “It’ll be fine. The more overboard you go the more he’ll want to accept it. He hates me remember?”

“Yeah,” Cas could see it clearly now. “And if it sounds like I blame you for everything, he won’t suspect that we’ll still be seeing each other. But what about you?”

“I’ll sit in church on Sunday, keep my head bowed the whole time, then afterwards I’ll go tell Pastor Walker I’ve found the light. I’ll even through in some tears if I have to. Then Boom. Repentance, forgiveness and we’re done. We both get left alone, I can be there for Sammy. It’s perfect.”

Cas could feel the hope blooming in him again. It wasn’t an instant fix, but it would have to do. “Ok,” he said excitedly, “I’ll tell my father tonight. But – ”

“If you aren’t going to read, get out!” A voice snapped out from behind them, causing both of them to jump. The old lady was glaring at them from her desk, pointing towards the exit.

“We’d better go.” Cas said morosely.

“Yeah, and remember, you hate me now.” Dean told him with a wink.

They left separately, Castiel dawdling to put his book back. He wished Missouri had been there, but they’d see her when she got back. For now, he needed to concentrate on what he would say to his father.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hang in there with me, i'm about to start uni but i'm gonna try to actually finish this


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry for the long gap, it's gonna be like this from now on i'm afraid so i'm putting the chapters up in chunks rather than individually. Also, people are gonna be saying some pretty mean stuff in the next few chapters, lots of slurs so just be careful if that kind of stuff upsets you, this fanfic definitely isn't worth it don't worry

It was easy: lying. Once you found the groove, once you figured out what they really wanted to hear, you could say anything.

And of course, Castiel already knew what Jim wanted him to say. He tried not to pay attention to the actual words coming out of his mouth. Dean was his friend, his lover. Even though he knew why he had to say it, it still felt like betrayal. Instead, he focused on his father. He watched his father’s face break into his smile – the real one– as his eyes filled with tears of joy.

“I’m proud of you son,” he said tearfully once it was over. He didn’t notice Castiel’s own glassy eyes, or if he did he dismissed it as happiness. “It’s not easy to see the light, but there’s good in you and the lord has rewarded it.”

“I’m sorry it took me so long.” He added a quaver to his voice for dramatic effect. “What do I do now?”

“I’m not gonna lie to you son, it won’t be easy. You’ll need to do a lot to make up for your transgressions against god”.  _Against me,_ was what he really meant.

“I understand. I’ll do anything.” He cast about for an escape. “It’s late and, um, this whole thing has been quite tiring...”

Jim smiled again – his paternal, kindly one this time. “Go to bed son,” he said fondly. “It’ll be a busy day tomorrow; you’ll need your rest.

There was an ominous quality to his words that jibed with his gentle tone. Cas shoved his misgivings aside as he headed upstairs. Everything was going fine. He was off the hook; tomorrow, Dean would do his own ‘repentance’ and while they wouldn’t be free; they would be one step closer to freedom.

Even so, he found sleep elusive that night. When he did, eventually, drift off his dreams were fitful, uneasy.

 

***

 

Dean had debated telling John beforehand, thinking it might ease the tension between them. In the end he decided to wait. It would be more believable if his supposed transformation came _after_ what was sure to be an impassioned sermon by Jim.

So it was that a heavy silence still hung over the Winchester household when Sunday morning dawned. John ferried Dean and Sam into the car with a grim look, Sam in the front seat; Dean exiled permanently to the back.

 _Soon this will all be over,_ he told himself. Soon, Dad would have forgiven him, Sam would be back and the whole incident would just be something they never talked about.  The car was pulling to a stop, but not at the church.

“Sam, you’re going to Ruby’s today.” John’s tone was iron firm.  “Pastor’s orders.”

“What? Why?”

“It’s just adults today.”

“What about Dean?”  Sam wanted to know.

“He’s seventeen,  that counts.” John snapped over his shoulder.

“I’m thirteen, I’m not a little kid!” Sam protested.

“I don’t care Sam. Pastor Novak decided. Now go on, have fun.”

Dean ignored the envious look Sam shot him as left, he actually felt relieved. Now Sam wouldn’t have to know anything.

 

They’d arrived at church in time to slide into a front pew, on the opposite side of the church from Cas. Dean watched him whenever he thought John wasn’t looking, noting Uriel’s absence and the easy way Jim was ordering his papers at the podium.  Their conversation must have gone well. Now it was Dean’s turn.

The church quickly filled, and the congregation crowded closer and closer together. There were even more people than in previous weeks, Jim’s radio broadcasts were clearly doing something. The chatter was amicable, but loud. At the head of church, Jim continued to examine his notes, seemingly oblivious to the crowd. Eventually, however, a restive silence fell as the anticipation became almost palpable.

Jim looked up, surprised at the hush. He opened his mouth as if to speak, the abruptly closed it again, gripping his sermon tightly. “Ahh, folks,” he said, his voice heavy with remorse. “I hate to do this to ya, I know y’all’ve been waiting a good while for me, but I need a few minutes. I’m sure you won’t mind me leavin’ you in Pastor Walker’s capable hands.” He gestured towards the front pew, and Gordon rose smoothly. Dean saw him place a worried hand on Jim’s shoulder, saw a question half formed on his lips, saw Jim’s assurances as he pushed Walker forward gently.

He saw all this, and felt cold. He tried to catch Castiel’s eyes, but they were fixed on his father’s figures, the brows creased in worry.

Dean didn’t hear a word of what Pastor Walker was saying. A sense of foreboding had settled over him, and he silently urged Gordon to talk longer. Anything to avoid whatever was coming next. He didn’t know where it was coming from, this dread, but it filled his ears with his heartbeat as he forced himself to stay seated. Every cell in his body wanted to be somewhere else right now but he had to stick to the plan.

From the tone of Gordon’s voice, he could tell he was winding down. The crowd, which had murmured somewhat in bewilderment beforehand, broke into applause. It wasn’t the screaming adoration they reserved for Jim, but it was enough that Gordon was justified in his smug smile as he stepped down.

Jimmy was soon back in his spot, a piece of paper crumpled between his hands. “I’m sorry about that folks,” he began. “I had this whole speech prepared, but somethin’ just wasn’t right with it. Now,” he smiled apologetically, “in order for me to explain, I’m gonna have to back up a bit. See, last week or thereabouts, I found a snake in our town.

 “An’ folks, this wasn’t no Coppermouth nor was it a Diamondback; it was much, much more dangerous. See, those snakes don’t pretend to be anything but what they are. This snake, he hides in plain sight. He pretends to be just like you an’ me. But he ain’t like you an’ me. An’ just like the serpent that ensnared Eve all those years ago, he’s here to tempt you, to take you from the Lord’s loving hands and damn you to hell for all eternity, except he’s worse. Because he ain’t _just_ a snake. No, he’s a perverted snake. A faggot snake.

“Now, you’re probably wonderin’, how come it took me so long to find this beast? An’ folks I have to admit I failed you.” Jim’s face was twisted with remorse. There were tears in his eyes but his voice remained steady, slowly rising in pitch as he continued. “I let this monster live among you. He eats with you, he talks with you. He sits in this church and pretends to be you. And it wasn’t until he tried to lure my own son away from God, away from _me,_ that I finally saw him for what he was.” A shockwave ran through the congregation at his words.

_Shit._

Dean felt John’s hand clamp round his arm, keeping him in his seat. Not that he could’ve moved anyway, pinned by the now heaving crowd on either side of him. He tried to pull away nevertheless, but John only tightened his grip. “You had your chance boy,” he hissed at Dean, voice thick with malice. “Time for you to get what you’re due.”

Jim raised his hands, and the crowd stilled almost immediately. “It’s true folks. This snake, in his arrogance, tried to tempt Castiel. He knows how to exploit every weakness, how to slip between the cracks of your faith. Luckily, my Son was too strong for him and was able to resist. But I ask you, do you have the same confidence in your children?” He let them ponder for a few seconds. “I can tell by your faces that some of you ain’t so sure.  An’ that’s because children don’t always have enough strength. That power can be hard to find for some people and it takes awhile for them to build their armour. Now, that ain’t a bad thing folks. God understands how hard it can be – that’s why he gave us parents in the first place. That’s why we forgive those that wrong us - that give in to that temptation.

“But our kindness has turned into weakness. We’ve let this evil live among us for too long. We’ve excused his transgressions time and time again. We’ve opened our hearts an' our homes to him to be repaid in nothing but insolence and hatred.

“An’ I nearly fell right back into this same trap. I bought into his lies, I encouraged Castiel to reach out to him, even though all that tried before him failed. I was gonna stand here today and urge forgiveness. I would’ve let this snake free to try again. I would’ve set him loose on your children.” He gave a visible shudder at the thought. “But I couldn’t do it. Not again.

“I know it might sound wrong, it might even sound hateful. But see, he ain’t really a person anymore. He’s refused every opportunity to return to the Lord. He clearly relishes the dark depravities of hell. An’ that’s where he belongs.”

he began to shout  in earnest now, his voice echoing off the walls of eerily quiet church. “Tell me folks: can we let an abomination like this live among us?”

The congregation erupted into jeers and boos.

“I didn’t think so,” Jim screeched above it all. “ _Be strong in the lord and in his might. Put on the whole armour of God, that you may be able to stand against the schemes of the devil...”_

Dean finally managed to free himself from John’s grip. Working purely on instinct, he pushed his was trough the crowds and stumbled into the aisle. He didn’t know what this crowd would do when they learned the name of Jim’s “snake”, but he couldn’t wait around to find out.

He was already halfway to safety when he felt the eyes of congregation burn into him.

“You see!” Jim’s voice cut across the hall, illuminating Dean in its terrible light. “ _Resist the devil and he will flee from you...”_  The rest of his words were swallowed by the bloodthirsty crowd.

Dean finally reached the doors. Time seemed to slow as he took a parting glance at the crowd. He saw his father, terrible for the hatred in his eyes.  Uriel and Pastor Walker both wore the same look of pugnacious satisfaction, while Jim practically glowed with vindication. Standing below him, his face the mirror opposite of his father’s, Castiel watched him with unspeakable grief.


	11. Chapter 11

He didn’t have a destination as he ran through empty streets. It felt wrong somehow, that the Sun was shining yet no one was outside – he felt like the last person on earth. Except he could still feel their eyes on him, burning through his coat, his shirt, his skin, right down to his soul – all brimming with hatred.  
Not Cas. Not Sam.   
Not Yet. The last thought came unbidden and he forced it away.  
He hadn’t paid attention to where his feet where taking him, yet he wasn’t surprised to find himself home.   
Like the streets, the house felt unbearably quiet and empty. He turned the radio on, letting a news broadcast fill the silence. It was typical Sunday nothing, the world was going on same as ever even as his crashed and burned.   
****  
Dean’s fear filled eyes were the only thing Cas could think about. He stood, frozen, as the crowd moved around him. Their angry cries sounded as if they were far away, a different world almost.   
“Do you have faith in the Lord?” His father’s voice cut through din, and Cas flinched at the sound of it.   
The crowd roared its approval.   
“Do you trust in him to protect you as we cast this evil out?”  
Another cheer.   
“Then folks, let us pray...” He lowered his voice and the rolling crowd calmed under his artful control. “Guide me, O thou great redeemer, Pilgrim through this barren land; I am weak, but thou art mighty...”  
By the time he finished, a tranquil air had settled over the church. The screaming mass of a few moments before had reverted to the familiar, friendly town. Cas paid them no attention as he made towards his father.   
A large circle of well wishers had clustered at the base of the podium yet they parted for him, their faces a mixture of sympathy and curiosity. His father stood at the centre, arm around John Winchester. He cast about for Sam but couldn’t see the youngest Winchester in the crowd.   
“..not your fault John,” Jim was saying, looking not at John but at the onlookers, still in preacher mode. “There’s bad ‘uns in every family, not a thing you can do to stop ‘em. An’ look at Sammy, how well he turned out with the same parents.”   
“Thanks Jimmy.” John’s face was a mask of righteous fury, “To think of all the years I wasted on that boy. All the years Mary spent loving him...” for a brief moment, grief flickered over his face. Then it was gone, and the eyes were hard again. “Truth be told, it almost makes me glad Mary’s not here to see this. It would’ve broken her heart.”   
Cas’ felt rage, white hot, pushing at him, urging him to speak. “Aren’t you at least going to give him a chance?” His father’s gaze snapped to his, a fury to rival Cas’ own evident on his face.   
“He’s had plenty chances, Son. He could’ve come forward, but he chose to run.”  
“It’s not like he had much choice is it?” Cas retorted. It was stupid, dangerous. But he did it anyway.   
“There’s always a choice, Castiel. You can always choose God: choose family, no matter the consequences.” It was John, not Jim who answered. He eyed Cas suspiciously. “I’m surprised to see you standing up for him Castiel; you know what he’s capable of more than anyone.” He sounded like he was talking about a monster, not his own son.   
Cas was so shocked at the words that he couldn’t speak. As he struggled to compose a reply, however, he noticed his father, watching him tensely. He was still on thin ice – he would have to be careful.   
“I just wish he could see the light – as I did.” He replied slowly. “It’s... unfortunate that we’ve had to give up on him.” A few in the crowd nodded in agreement, and he relaxed.   
“You’re still young Son,” Jim was watching him with a strange expression. “You still think we can save everybody.”  
“Can’t we?” The hypocrisy of it was too much – he felt the anger rising again. It was followed immediately by panic as he watched his father.   
Luckily, Jim seemed pleased at the opportunity for an impromptu sermon. “Son, there’s nothing I wish for more than for everyone to be saved. I thought it was possible, for a long time I did. But what did I accomplish? All I did was bring sinners into contact with good people. I learned that people need to want to be saved, and Dean’s made it crystal clear that he don’t.” He paused, looking hard into the watching eyes. His eyes met Cas’ last of all, and he held his Son’s gaze as he finished, watching for any flicker of emotion.   
“Dean Winchester cannot be saved.”  
****

The sound of a door slamming snapped Dean out of the half doze the radio had lulled him into. He rose to his feet, at something of a loss over what he was supposed to be doing in the first place. John appeared in the doorway, his face oddly placid.   
“Dad,” he began, mouth dry. His father ignored him, turning off the radio, letting the crushing silence rush between them.  
“I’ve let this go on long enough.” John’s voice was suspiciously calm. He wasn’t looking at Dean, but at the wall just past his head. “Sam’s at Ruby’s. By the time he gets back I want you gone.”  
“No. I have to see Sammy. He needs me –” He had to explain, to tell Sam what was really going on.  
“You think Sam needs some dirty faggot for a brother?” The words jarred with his calm tone and that somehow made them worse. “All you can do is drag him down with you.” John’ face was blank again, his eyes focused on the wall.   
“Where am I supposed to go, Dad? What am I supposed to do?” He watched for something: sadness, anger, grief, anything. But if John felt for his eldest anymore he didn’t let it show on his face.   
“I don’t care. You’re gone, you understand me? One way or the other, you’re gone.” His voice was flat, controlled. Yet it was more threatening than his shouts had ever been.   
He wanted to grab his father, to shake him and rage until John had to acknowledge him, to acknowledge the seventeen years between them. He took a step forward. John didn’t move. He took a second then a third. By the fourth, he was close enough to touch.   
“Dad,” he reached through the space between them. John’s hands clasped around his wrists before he got there. They were strong hands, rough and calloused from years of work. Dean could feel his thick fingers digging into the skin of his arms. He let out an involuntary gasp at the pain.  
“Out. Now. And don’t you ever come back again.”


	12. Chapter 12

_The crowd pushed against him, a fierce current of people. A mass of arms and legs, grabbing him tripping him. Their eyeless faces turned towards him, unseeing uncaring. He saw a flash of green, so far away he could’ve imagined it._

_“Dean!” he tried to scream but it was lost in the distance between them. The crowd was overwhelming him, dragging him down. He struggled against the bodies, forcing himself to the surface, desperately._

_“Dean!”_


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hopefully will get the rest up soon. It's nearly done

“Dean!”  
He forced his eyes open, squinting up to the figure above him. “Missouri?”  
“What in the Hell you doing out here?” she didn’t sound angry, just worried.  
“Couldn’t go home. Got tired.” He struggled into a seating position, body complaining all the way. Curled up in front of a door wasn’t the most comfortable position after all.  
“They found out.” It wasn’t a question.  
“Yeah.”  
“Come in, tell me everything.” She let them both into the library, locking the door behind her.  
“Won’t it be suspicious?” he was so tense, she noted, trying to hold himself together with sheer willpower alone.  
“Nobody’ll notice, don’t you worry ‘bout it. Now, sit here, I’m gonna make us some coffee.”  
She listened in silence as he told her what had happened, taking in his dishevelled from, the dark circles under his eyes, the bruises on his wrists. He was trying to keep his voice blank, emotionless, as if what he was describing had happened to someone else entirely.  
“...Dad said I couldn’t stay anymore. That was yesterday.”  
“And what did you do last night?” she pressed.  
“I walked mostly, round town. To keep warm y’know? Didn’t realise it got so cold at night here. Then when I got too tired to move anymore I came here, to wait for you.” His eyes met hers for the first time. “Missouri, what are we gonna do?” There was despair in his gaze, yes, but hope too. He wanted her to tell him everything would be ok, that he would see Cas and Sam again. That John would smile at him and look at him; that everything could go back to the way it had been. It amazed her he could still be so hopeful. It destroyed her that she’d have to dissapoint him.  
“You can’t stay here Dean, you have to know that.” She forced herself to meet his horrified stare, she wouldn’t look away.  
“No.” His voice was hoarse with shock and pain. “I-I can’t. I have to stay. For Sammy.”  
“It’s not safe for you here no more. That preacher’s made sure of that.”  
“This is all my fault.” He whispered, more to himself than Missouri. “If I was normal, if I’d been able to pretend, none of this would’ve happened. Not to me, not to Cas.”  
“Now listen here Dean Winchester,” Missouri’s voice was firm and strong. “There ain’t nothin’ wrong with what you’ve done and what you are. It’s them that should know better. It was them that decided to hurt you and condemn you. I won’t let you take the blame for their choices. They’re the ones that need to pay.”  
She hugged him tightly to her chest, feeling the little resolve he had left crumble as he started to cry. She held him close, until his sobs had subsided into small shakes.  
He looked away as she stood up, embarrassed at his outburst. “Thanks Missouri. I...thanks.”  
“Don’t you mention it. Now you get some rest now, some proper rest. When you wake up you’re gonna help me put this place back the way it was. That toilet brush of a lady’ll have busted my whole system to hell.” she was back in librarian mode, the familiarity of it soothed him as he lay on the sofa.  
Within minutes. He was asleep. 

 

***  
In Castiel’s daydreams, Dean had turned up to school on Monday. Even though it was the most stupid idea imaginable, Cas had pictured him sitting in his normal seat, a half smile on his lips and the chair next to him ready and waiting as always.  
Cas had imagined himself walking across the room, the class quieting to watch in his wake. He had walked straight up too Dean and kissed him squarely on the mouth, in full view of Uriel, Hael and everyone else.  
In his fantasies, they’d been too shocked to do anything. All they could do was stare as he pulled Dean to his feet and out the classroom. He’d pictured the outrage on their faces, imagined it would be the last time he ever had to look at their faces. In his fantasy, it was always sunset, there was always a bus waiting. They could always ride off into the sunset together.  
But of course, Dean wasn’t stupid enough to show up, and Cas was ‘reformed’ so he was supposed to be pleased about that.  
“Castiel.” The sound shocked him out of his reverie. It was Hael, her face twisted with remorse.  
“Hael, are you ok?” he forced himself to be polite.  
“I just wanted to say I’m sorry. We’re all sorry.” She indicated the group standing awkwardly a little further away. “We didn’t know what was going on, if we’d realized we would’ve tried to help, but we let you be dragged down by that – ”  
“Thank you Hael.” She still looked guilt stricken and he cast about for something else to say. “I don’t blame you, any of you.”  
Hael relaxed at that. “Thank you Castiel,” she grabbed his hand, “C’mon, you needn’t be over here by yourself, not anymore.” She dragged him across the room, depositing him in an empty chair next to Uriel.  
“I’m glad you’re back with us, Castiel.” Uriel was back to his obsequious self, it seemed.  
“Thank you,” he replied stiffly. Uriel was watching him expectantly, wanting something more explicit.  
Hating himself for every word of but knowing he had to he said: “And thank you, for... for...saving me. From myself.”  
He felt shame burning within him, anger too but mostly shame. Shame that he wasn’t strong enough to be himself: shame that he wasn’t brave enough to do it anyway.  
***  
Dean woke around lunchtime, starving. Missouri set out some lunch for them and kept the conversation light. She could sense Dean didn’t want to talk about what was happening, and she figured he was owed a break at least. He couldn’t hide from the world forever but he deserved a break.  
After they finished eating he helped her reorganise the library. “Look what that old bitch has done to this place,” she gestured to the shelves in despair. “Look how empty the shelves are.”  
He moved boxes for her as she returned the books deemed ‘unacceptable’ to their places. “Does she do this every time you go away?” he asked as he set the latest crate at her feet.  
“Yup. Every single time. They seem to think if they do it often enough I’ll just give up or something and let the books rot.”  
“It might be easier.” He pointed out, “And if you do then people’d start coming by again.” He smiled at the look of outrage on her face.  
“And what would I be giving them?” she asked indignantly. “Just the same ol’ bull they get anywhere else. No, I’m always gonna be here with the Truth. They can ignore me and starve me of money as much as they want.”  
Dean kept an eye on the clock as they worked, keeping track of how long school had left. He felt hope blossom at three thirty, Cas would be home by now. By four o’clock, however, he had yet to appear.  
“He won’t be able to just get away anymore.” Missouri’s reminded him softly, watching his gaze dart from the clock to the door every few minutes. “His dad’ll be keeping a close eye on him; and he’s gonna have to play along for as long as he can.”  
“I need to see him.” Dean whispered. “It’s been so long.”  
“I know honey,” she lay a comforting hand on his shoulder. “I hope he can get away before you go.” She felt him tense up, but pushed on anyway. “It would be for the best if you two left together, but if not – ”  
“I’m not leaving! I told you, I can’t.”  
“What are you gonna do then Dean? Live in the library? Hope that everyone just forgets what happened?” She made sure to keep calm, he would find it too easy to ignore her if she were angry.  
Dean opened his mouth to reply, then closed it. She was right, he knew that. “I need to see Cas first, and Sam. I need to explain what’s going on. He needs to hear it from me.”  
“Then you’d leave?” she asked.  
“Maybe.” Was all he said.  
Missouri snorted. “That’s Winchester speak for ‘No’. I hope you get that chance Dean I really do, and you can stay here as long as you need to.”  
He still hadn’t grasped his new reality. He still believed everything could somehow go back to normal. Missouri couldn’t help but admire his optimism; she just hoped it wouldn’t cost him too much.


	14. Chapter 14

“You wouldn’t lie to me, would you son?”

Cas paused at the question, one hand already on the door knob. “What?”

“When you told me you wanted forgiveness, were you lying?”

“No,” he hoped the panic in his voice would be interpreted as pain. “Why Dad, am I doing something wrong?”

 “I don’t know, Castiel. It seems to me like you aren’t as committed to this as you say. You were plenty keen to defend that snake in church and I don’t want you thinkin’ you can have it both ways: you can’t protect him and be saved.” Jimmy placed both hands on Cas’ shoulders. “It’s a terrible sin to lie to your father. It’s a terrible sin to lie to the lord. I can’t afford to have you flakin’ on me the minute it gets hard. The path to salvation is long an’ tortuous. I need you on that path.”

“I’ll do whatever you need me to Dad.” He met his father’s gaze steadily, careful not to a let a flicker or emotion slip by. “I don’t want anything to do with Dean. Never again.”

“Glad ta hear Son,” Jim smiled genially, releasing his shoulders. “Now get to School.”

 

 Jim seemed to believe him, but the conversation dominated Cas’ mind nevertheless. The day slipped by in a haze of worry and fear as he analysed the exchange. What had started as a faint unease as he boarded the school bus snowballed into full blown worry by lunch time as he agonized his way through the possibilities. By the time the bell rang and he managed to escape Uriel’s gang, fear was consuming his every thought.

He was so wrapped up in gloomy possibility that he barely noticed where he was until he walked into the library door. It was locked. He frowned: Missouri never closed early. He knocked softly, and heard quick footsteps. A second later the door was wrenched open and he was pulled into a tight hug.

“Hi Missouri,” he squeezed out.“Glad you’re back.”

“You poor boy.” She whispered into his hair, pulling him closer. “You poor, brave, stupid, boy.” 

“Dean told you what happened?” he asked when she released him. “Is he here?”

“Of course, where else would he be?” she gestured towards the back room. “He’s sleeping right now, but he won’t mind if you wake him.”

“Thank you.” Cas was already halfway across the room. Dean was curled up on an old sofa, his face twisted into a grimace at an unpleasant dream.

“Hello Dean,” Cas’ voice was soft, but Dean stirred immediately. One green eye opened slowly, Cas had a second to register the surprise in it before he was being pulled into a desperate kiss.

For the first time in days, he felt calm. The physicality of Dean – the coarseness of his hands in Cas’ hair, the softness of his lips, the wetness of tears on their cheeks – reassured his heart in a way that was beyond the scope of words. He pressed in closer, until he could feel Dean’s heartbeat, in sync with his own. He was _here._

 “Cas,” Dean’s voice was hoarse with emotion when they finally broke apart. “I didn’t think I’d ever see you again.”

“I’m sorry Dean. I’m sorry.”

“What’re you sorry for?” he laughed hollowly. “It was my idea, you haven’t done anything.”

“I should’ve insisted we left, I should’ve guessed He’d do something like that.” Cas’ voice shook. “Instead I let you take all the blame, and now the whole town...” He dropped his gaze to the floor.

“Hey, hey,” Dean gently lifted Cas’ head so their eyes met. “Nobody coulda seen what your Dad was gonna do, even Pastor Walker was surprised. Besides,” he smiled wanly. “It’s not the _whole_ town: you’n Missouri still like me, right?”

Cas nodded, not trusting himself to speak.

“That’s fine then.” Dean said matter of factly, pushing Sam to the back of his brain for now. “But what about you? What’s it like being back in with the God Squad?”

Cas snorted derisively. “They switch between guilt ridden at not realising I was being ‘tempted’ to awe struck at how my father rescued me from the jaws of sin.” His face fell as he remembered their conversation that morning. “I’m not sure Dad trusts me though, he’s suspicious.”

“Shit.”

“We need to leave Dean.” Now it was Dean’s turn to look away. “Dean, you can’t seriously want to stay?”

“I dunno,” he confessed. “I still wanna talk to Sammy. He’ll  have no idea what’s going on. I need to tell him. If he hears it from me...”

“What difference will it make?” Cas asked bluntly. “Even if you do tell him, you won’t be able to stay.”

“He could help talk Dad round maybe, or help convince everyone I wanna change.”

“No.” Missouri’s firm voice cut across the room, making the both of them jump. Her words were harsh but her tone was kind. “Even if you can somehow convince Sam you ain’t the devil incarnate after everything he’s been taught, even if you can somehow convince the rest of the town of that too it won’t make a damn difference.”

“Why not? I’d be able to go home.”

“You’d never be happy again. You’d have to live a lie forever and you’d never be from suspicion.” Missouri met Dean’s defiant glare levelly.  “Are you ready for that Dean? Are you ready to ignore every fibre of yourself: to suppress every urge, every thought? Are you ready to find some bloodless girl who’ll ignore or overlook what they whisper about you? Are you ready for years of loveless marriage, never truly able to connect with anyone meaningful again? Are you ready to abandon Cas? Are you ready to abandon life?” Her voice was heavy with pain and anger, her eyes clouded with tears.

“Missouri...”

“You think you’re the only ones that’ve ever fallen in love? You think you’re the only ones that had to make these choices?” The tears were falling in earnest now.  Missouri sank onto the sofa, hands over her face.  Dean and Cas watched, unsure how to proceed. Eventually, Missouri raised her head again, back under control.

“I was like you Dean.” She said, her voice still shaky. “I wouldn’t leave: my momma was sick, I needed to look after her. I had it easier ‘cos no one had found out about us, I thought we could pretend, that we could stay forever. She was smarter than me: she left.”

“What happened?”  Cas asked softly.

“Mom died, and I had no one. Eventually I met my husband.” She laughed hollowly. “He needed a cook: I needed noise in the house. I thought if I pretended I was happy, that I was normal, eventually we would be. I don’t think we’ve spoken five words to each other in the past ten years.” She clasped Dean’s hand in hers. “I won’t let you make the same mistakes Dean. Sam’ll survive, you won’t.”

Dean stood, his eyes not leaving Missouri’s.  He gently pulled his hand free, then turned and walked out.

“Dean!” Cas called desperately after him.

“Let him go,” Missouri sounded tired. “He needs to let his head clear.”

Cas pulled her into a sincere, if slightly awkward, hug. “Thank you for everything Missouri, I don’t think we can ever repay you.” He said into her shoulder.

“Just be happy Castiel, that’s all I ask.”


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> there's some violence in this chapter, not too graphic but still kinda upsetting so be wary

Missouri’s words seemed to follow Dean as he fled into the cool evening. It was still light, but the sun was weak in the murky streets. By the time he reached his street he was panting heavily, the thoughts he had tried to outrun still crowding his mind. He approached his house slowly, relieved at the empty driveway. He was searching for the spare key when he heard a shout.  
“Winchester!”   
It was Uriel, a smug smile on his face and two figures at his shoulders. Michael and Ezekiel. He turned away, heart beating fast.   
“Where do you think you’re going, Winchester?” Uriel called lazily, they were nearly on him now.  
“Why d’you care?” he tried to keep his voice calm, flippant. Even to his own ears, he sounded scared.   
Uriel’s smile deepened. “Really, Dean. You don’t honestly think we’d let you show your face round here anymore?”   
“You’re a danger to our community,” Michael supplied, his cruel smile marring his handsome face.   
“It’d be reckless of us to let a known faggot roam free.” Ezekiel added.  
His other weapons useless, Dean fell back to sarcasm. “Wow fellas, those are big words for jocks. Did Uriel have to write them down for you?” That wiped the smiles of their faces, and he allowed himself a moment of satisfaction at the sight.   
“We won’t ask again, where are you going?” Ezekiel snapped.   
“Well Zeke, can’t a guy enjoy an evening walk?”  
“I think he’s trying to sneak home.” Uriel’s malicious delight was plain to hear. “You don’t think we’d let you do that?”  
“What’s it got to do with you?” Dean snapped. “You don’t have a fucking clue –”  
“We know that John doesn’t want you here anymore,” Uriel interrupted gleefully. “He doesn’t want some queer like you anywhere near Sam.”  
“Shut the hell up.”  
“Can you blame him? Look at you. You already tried to entice Castiel, who’s to say who you’ll try next.”  
“You don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about.” He fought to keep his voice calm. All three had moved closer yet he was routed to the spot in anger.  
“Fags like you; they don’t care where they get it,” Michael taunted. “Can’t control themselves.”  
“Is that why you’re here? Trying to tempt Sammy like you did Castiel?”  
“I told you to shut the fuck –”  
“Dean?”  
All four of them turned in unison. Sam stood in the doorway, a confused expression on his face.  
“Sammy...” Dean began, but Uriel cut him off.   
“Don’t worry Sam; we won’t let him near you.”  
Sam’s frown deepened. “What do you mean? Why can’t he come near me?” He turned to his older brother. “Dean where’ve you been? Why are you still wearing those clothes?”   
“I can explain Sam, I promise.” He made to walk towards the door, but Michael’s hand clamped on his arm, trapping him in the driveway.   
“Interesting,” Uriel leaned in close so that Sam, who was watching them curiously, couldn’t hear. “He doesn’t seem to know. Or...” his voice turned dangerous. “Or, you’ve already perverted him?”  
“What the fuck are you talking about? Let me go.” He tried to tug his arm free, but Michael only tightened his grip.   
“Tell us Dean, have you tainted your brother? Is he a faggot like you?”   
Dean spat in his face. Momentarily, Uriel was a contortion of rage. He regained his composure quickly, however, wiping the spit of his face calmly.   
“If you won’t tell us, I guess we’ll have to ask Sam.” He raised his voice, so that his words would carry to the younger Winchester, watching anxiously from the porch.   
“Tell you what?” he began, starting down the front stairs towards them.  
“Sam, no! Go back inside.” Dean’s panicked voice stopped him in his tracks.   
“Why?” he demanded, his voice quaking. “Why won’t anyone tell me what’s going on?”  
“Go back inside, please. I’ll explain later, I promise,” Dean pleaded. To Uriel he added, “He doesn’t know anything, I haven’t done anything to him I swear.” The desperation in his voice must have been convincing, for he was suddenly being pulled away from his house and down the street.   
He caught one last glimpse of Sam, still standing on the stairs with a bewildered expression on his face, before Uriel blocked his vision. They didn’t stop until they’d dragged him round a corner onto the next street. There were a few people still out, dog walkers mostly, but they all ignored the four teenagers.   
“You got what you want, didn’t you?” Dean demanded wearily. “Can I go now?”  
“Hmm I don’t think you’ve learned your lesson yet Dean.” Uriel shook his head with mock sadness. “Your kind, see, your kind are persistent. We may have scared you away this time, but you’ll only try again when you think we aren’t around.” He nodded at Michael who grabbed Dean’s other arm and trapped them behind his back painfully.   
“Hey!” his shout was loud enough to draw the attention of others on the street. When they saw who had uttered it, however, they turned away.   
“They know what you are. They don’t want to help you.” Uriel informed him. “Nobody in this town wants you, Dean. Nobody cares what happens to you. Sam though, he’s different. He’s a good one, and John’s lost enough already. We won’t let you take Sam or anyone else. You’re poison, and we’re going to make sure you don’t forget it.”


	16. Chapter 16

“He’s been gone too long: I need to find him.”

“Castiel wait,” Missouri grabbed his hand, stopping him in his tracks. “You’re right, but if you go to him it’ll only cause trouble.” 

“What am I supposed to do?” he snapped, “I can’t just sit and wait.”

“You gotta,” Missouri told him firmly, getting to her feet. “I’ll go look for him, you stay here. I won’t be long, there’s only so much town.” She glanced at the clock, her mouth a thin line. “Maybe get the first aid kit from the back.”

“You don’t think he’s been hurt? He’ll need my help.” He was already halfway to the door. 

“Cas, I don’t honestly know if he’s been hurt, but if he has we ain’t doin him any favours by arguin’. Just stay here, please.” Missouri left before he could retort. 

Worry gnawed at him as he watched the clock. The second hand ticked by with agonizing slowness, the minute hand didn’t seem to move at all. His impotence at the situation stung. He couldn’t just sit here, doing nothing while Dean was out there doing god knew what. But Missouri was right, of course, them being seen together would only make everything worse. He was searching for batteries when he heard the door open. 

“Dean? Missouri? Did you find him?” He saw Dean’s face. “Dean!”

“M’ok,” Dean tried to assure him, ruining the pretence by wincing. There was a nasty bruise spreading across one half of his face, already purpling; his lip was swollen and bleeding. His clothes, the same ones he’d been wearing in church Cas realised with a lurch, were dirty and torn. His hands and knees were both bloody. He tried to smile. “Honestly it’s not as bad as it looks.”

“Well it looks pretty damn bad,” Missouri informed him, depositing him in a chair and accepting the first aid kit Cas offered. “Thank you, Castiel.”

“What happened?” Cas demanded. 

“I went home, or I tried to. Uriel was there, along with some friends. They weren’t pleased to see me.” Dean shrugged, trying and failing to act casually. “They wanted to teach me a lesson or something. Punched me in the face,” he pointed to the bruise on his face “Knocked me down, got a few kicks in too. Eventually they got bored I think.”

“Did it right out in the open too,” Missouri was fuming, rifling through the kit angrily. “When I found you there must’ve been five other people lookin the opposite way.”

“There were people on the street the whole time,” Dean’s voice was shaking. “Uriel said they didn’t care what happened to me.”

“So much for love thy neighbour... here we go,” Missouri pulled iodine out of the kit, turning towards Dean. “Now this is gonna sting.” 

“Those bastards,” Cas was frowning in confusion. “I don’t understand, how could they just watch?” 

“Safer than gettin’ involved. I’m poison now.” Dean told him bitterly, wincing at the sting of the iodine. 

Missouri swore under her breath, standing. “That’s you, should get some ice on that bruise but I’ve done what I can. Now, if you’ll excuse men, I’m gonna make a phonecall.” She moved off, giving them some privacy.

“Dean you know that’s not true,” Cas said firmly, taking Dean’s hand. “They’re the ones that’re wrong, remember?”

“Yeah I know Cas, but they’ve got a point: I’m not safe to be around anymore.”

“What do you mean?”

Dean looked at him, eyes laden with sadness. “They threatened Sam, Cas.”

“Those bastards...” 

Dean nodded in agreement, “He was home, heard us shouting. He still has no clue what’s going on. Uriel wanted to make sure I hadn’t ‘corrupted’ him,” he laughed bitterly, “I pretty much caved at that point.” He took a deep breath, finally admitting what he’d known for a while. “We have to leave don’t we?”

Cas embraced him, feeling the shake of Dean’s shoulders as he tried to suppress his sobs. “If we’re together, we’ll always be ok,” he murmured softly. “We’re enough.”

“We’re enough,” Dean echoed, taking strength from the words. He thought for a moment. “We’re gonna need a plan. Somewhere to go, money, clothes. Everything.”

“I’ve got money: enough for a bus out of here at least. Once we get to a city I’ve got stuff I can pawn off.” Cas said slowly, mentally reviewing the contents of his room. 

“Yeah, me too,” Dean nodded. “I’ll go home tomorrow,” he saw Cas’ face, “during the day.” He rushed to reassure him. “I’m not that dumb. I’ll grab some clothes, some stuff I can sell.” 

“Then we meet at the bus station?”

“Yeah, grab the first bus outta there.”

“Then what?” They both fell silent, considering their meagre options. 

“You have any family that might be, um, sympathetic?” Dean asked eventually. 

“My Dad’s a preacher, what do you think?” Cas replied drily. “You?”  
Dean shook his head. “Nobody: they all live here. Shit,” he swore, “we are so fucked.”

“Maybe not.” A voice from behind them said. Cas jumped, he hadn’t heard Missouri come back in. 

“I have a...friend in the city. He’ll put you up for a while, though he’ll expect you to work in return.” She said, handing Dean a piece of paper with the address on it. “He’s expecting you in the next few days.” She held up a hand, “Don’t thank me. He’s a difficult man, but he’s better than here.”

“Cain’s a weird name,” Cas said, reading over Dean’s shoulder.

“He’s a weird guy. Now, I’m gonna head home and get some food for me and Dean. Cas, are you staying?”

“If that’s ok.”

“Cas, are you sure?” Dean asked. “Not that I don’t want you to stay but what about your Dad?”

Cas smiled. “I’m running away tomorrow so it doesn’t really matter does it?”

Dean managed a weak smile in return. “I guess not.”

If you ignored the bruise on Dean’s face; the sadness in Missouri’s eyes and the fact they were eating in a library, it was a normal night. They kept the conversation light, Missouri gave them book recommendations and museums to check out. It was almost as if they were going on holiday, Cas reflected, rather than leaving forever. He wondered if he’d ever see anybody here again. Aside from Missouri and Dean, he realised, there was nobody for him here. No other friends or family. He hoped that, wherever they ended up, there was family to be made. 

It was long past dark by the time he left, a cloudless night. The moon shone brightly, illuminating Dean’s bruised face as they kissed.  
“See you tomorrow then.” Cas said. 

“Yeah,” Dean smiled. “Tomorrow”

If Cas had known those would be his last words to Dean, he’d have tried to make them more meaningful.


	17. Chapter 17

Dean waited until mid afternoon before he set off for home again. The streets were mostly empty, the few people about turned their heads as he passed. His street was deserted, his driveway empty. The spare key was under the mat. He let himself in slowly.

He was missing from the house, but that didn’t surprise him. John had done the same when his Mom had died: removing all physical traces of her life, as if pretending she’d never been there would make the pain any more bearable.  All that remained of Mary now were photographs.

The photos were gone this time, he realised. Him holding Sammy in the hospital; him with Mom at a birthday party; Him, John and Sam standing proudly in front of the car. The memories were gone, leaving nothing but shadows. Numbed, he continued up the stairs, ignoring the dark patches.

 

He found the photos in a pile on his bed, along with everything else he owned. He should be relieved, he supposed, that there was anything left. He wouldn’t put it past John to burn everything. He discarded his ripped church clothes, and fished his favourite shirt and jeans from the bottom of a box marked _Goodwill_. At least his life would do some good then.

 

He found a canvas backpack under his bed and set to packing. There wasn’t much to it. Aside from the necessities, there wasn’t much he could take with him. Nothing much seemed like it would be appropriate anyway:  they were relics of a life that didn’t exist anymore. After some consideration, he took some of the books Sam had always bugged him to read; his sleeping bag and two spare sets of clothes. Lingering over the pile on his bed, he carefully removed the smaller pictures from their frames and slid them between the pages of _The Lord of the Rings_. Finally, he stuffed his pockets with anything he could sell. The whole process had taken less than ten minutes. He even had time for a shower. 

 

Heading downstairs, the dirt of the last few days scrubbed off, he paused at Sam’s room. He hadn’t been inside since John had found out about him and Cas, what felt like an age ago. Even in here, he was missing: the photos, his camp bed even his birthday cards, all gone. Rage finally broke through numbing cloud that had settled over him. He rummaged through Sam’s desk until he found a pen and paper and began to write:

_Sammy,_

_DON’T LET DAD SEE THIS!_

_I wish I could’ve told you what’s going on, but nobody would let me talk to you and I’m leaving tonight. I don’t really know how to explain this in a letter, but here goes. Me and Cas, we’re in love. Dad found out, so did Jim. Now the whole town knows too but Dad obviously doesn’t want anyone to tell you. It’s not safe for me here anymore, and as long as I’m around it’s not safe for you either._

_We’re leaving town tonight. I’m not sure where I’m going to end up, but I’ll send you letters I promise. Talk to Missouri, she’ll be lonely, and don’t believe a word anyone else in this fucking town tells you. Don’t tell anyone I wrote you._

_If you read this in time, come to the bus stop before 8.00. Let me say goodbye properly._

_I’m sorry I couldn’t be a proper big brother to you. I’m sorry I can’t look out for you anymore._

_Dean._


	18. Chapter 18

There were too many cars parked on the driveway. Cas tried to remember if Jim had mentioned an interview or meeting for today. It wasn’t the kind of thing his father would neglect to tell him, especially if there were photographers. Still, this would probably make it easier for Castiel: if Jim was entertaining guests he wouldn’t notice that Cas had gone until it was too late.

 

He opened the front door as quietly as he could, listening for the sound of his father’s (fakest) real laughter. The house was eerily silent however. Maybe they were praying. He made his way towards the stairs when a voice called out behind him.

 

“Where’re you goin’ son?” Jim was standing in the doorway to the living room, arms crossed.

“Um...upstairs?”

“No you ain’t,” Jim told him, gesturing for him to come forward. “I got somethin to tell you, come here.”

Reluctantly, Castiel went. Pastor Walker, Uriel and two men he didn’t recognise sat in chairs ringed around an empty one in the centre. Cas had a feeling to where this was going. He instantly spun round, making for the door. Jim caught him.

“Sit down Castiel. Right in the middle here.” He propelled his protesting son into the ring, standing over him until he sat, glaring at his father.

“Castiel,” Pastor Walker began, tone measured. “Your father has some...concerns about your recent behaviour.”

“Does he?” Cas kept his voice expressionless as possible, eyes never leaving Jims’. “That’s unfortunate.”

“You lied to me son, you lied this whole time.” Jim’s voice shook.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Dad. I told you, I’m sorry,”

“Stop lying Castiel!” Jim slapped him hard across the face, breathing heavily.

Stunned, all Cas could do was stare through his tears, hand on his reddening cheek. Nobody in the outer circle had reacted to the slap, except for Uriel, whose face suggested something akin to the second coming.

“You’ve lied to me; You’ve lied to Him,” Jim pointed upwards, “well now it’s time to stop.”

“Dad, please, I’ve been nothing but honest.” Cas let his voice quaver, tried to look as confused as possible. He just had to get through a few more hours. “I’m telling the truth I swear.”

Rather than the softening he’d been hoping for, Jim’s face contorted with rage. He opened his mouth, but seemed too angry to speak. After a couple deep breaths, he tried again. “Why do you insist on doing this?” he asked. Then, before Cas could reply, he changed tack. “Why did you go to the library yesterday?”

Cas was thrown by the change of subject. “The library?” he asked, uncertain how to proceed.

“Uriel and some friends happened to pass by as you got there.” Jim told him and Cas had to keep himself from snorting. He had no doubt Uriel had been following him.

“Now, Missouri Mosley ain’t the kind of person my Son should be associating with at any point, but do you know who Uriel saw leave the library not twenty minutes later?” Cas didn’t reply. “I’ll tell you who he saw: It was Dean Winchester.”

 _Shit shit shit._ Ignoring the rising panic inside, Cas tried to keep his tone flat, unrevealing. “Really? I didn’t see him there. I went to return a book I borrowed for school.” He added, hoping without much hope that Jim would buy it and he could leave.

No such luck. “You got home awfully late last night son: surely the queue weren’t that big?”

“I, um, got distracted. By the books.”

“Yes I’m sure it was the books, you lying, dirty, treacherous little _faggot!_ ” Jim hurled the last word at him like a stone; Castiel flinched under its weight. “After everything I’ve done and said, after I extended my forgiveness and took you back: after I gave you a chance at redemption, this is how you repay me? This is how you repay your loving father?”

Cas felt something snap inside him. There was no point in this any longer, he realised. He was doomed either way: he may as well go down fighting. “My loving father? Are you serious?” he spat, face split in a humorous grin.

 “I was _never_ a son to you: just an annoyance until you realised you could use me. Then I was your prop. The son of a Preacher man: quiet, respectful, obedient. You didn’t want a son you just wanted someone to stand behind your chair during photo shoots. You pretend to love and care. You pretend to know God when all you care about is yourself and your fame. You call _me_ a liar when all I’ve done is love. You don’t know what love is: all you can do is hate. So you can scream and shout at me all you want. You can call me a liar or a snake or the goddam devil himself and it won’t change a damn thing. I _love_ Dean, and that love brings me closer to God that you could ever be.”

The silence that followed his words was deadly. Fury was too gentle a word to describe the expression on Jim’s face, and Cas instinctively took a step back, only now noticing he was on his feet. At his action, Jim’s face changed. The anger melted away, replaced by a deep grief. “I see you’re beyond any help I can give you. I didn’t want it to come to this son, I truly didn’t, but you’ve left me no choice.”

Cas felt a presence at his back,The two strange men (who had remained silent throughout) were behind him, cutting off any chance at escape.

“These two gentlemen run a...school for boys like you. They _save_ boys like you. Don’t worry Castiel: you will be saved.”

“No. Let me leave on my own: I’ll go far away; I’ll change my name. you won’t _ever_ hear from us again. Let me live my life.”

Jim grabbed his shoulders, pulling his face in close. “You don’t understand, boy. This is not a negotiation: this is _not_ optional. A man like me _cannot_ have a son like you. As long as you’re alive you will be my son – no matter what fag name you decide to go by – and I cannot afford to have a son that is anything but my own image. If I cannot have that son I will create that son or I will have no son.”  He released Castiel, turning away. “Now take him: don’t bring him back until he knows what’s right.”

Castiel was easily lead to the waiting car, too overcome to do anything but sit as he was driven away from town: away from Dean.

“I’m sorry Dean,” he whispered, head bowed low so the men in front could neither see his tears nor hear his prayer. “I love you, I will find you. Even if it takes me my one and only lifetime I will find you.”


	19. Chapter 19

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> well this is it! thank you everyone for sticking with me through this and for all the encouragement. <3

It was 7 o’clock and Cas still wasn’t here. Dean’s head was constantly turning: searching the horizon for the bus and looking, desperately, for the familiar figure to emerge out of the gloom.

7.15 _nothing._

7.30 _nothing._

7.35 _nothing._

7.40 _nothing._

7.42 _noth – wait!_

There was someone running towards the bus stop. It wasn’t Cas: he realised that almost immediately. No, not Cas (not yet) but just as good.

“Sammy!” he called out as his younger brother drew closer. He was clutching Dean’s letter in his hand. “Sam, thank god I got to see you.”

Sam stopped, but didn’t say anything.

“Sam?” Dean took a step forward, heart sinking as Sam took one back. “Sammy, what’s wrong?”

“Don’t call me that!” Sam said sharply. “You don’t get to call me that anymore.”

“What are you talking about Sam?”

Sam took a deep breath, his eyes fixed on a point over Dean’s shoulder. “I came here to tell you, that you’re not my brother anymore. What you are is sinful and wrong and I can’t be ok with it.”

His words tore through Dean like bullets. They left empty gaping holes bleeding pain and sorrow.  All he could feel was the pain: that and the hot tears on his face. “Sammy...”

“I told you not to call me that,” Sam shouted, voice echoing around the empty road. “Only my brother gets to call me Sammy, and you aren’t my brother.”

“Sam, c’mon, it’s me. You know I’m not a bad person.”

“How can I know Dean? You lied to me. You lied to all of us.”

“Because I was scared Sam. I didn’t want you to hate me.”

“Well I do. I hate you!” Sam was crying too, but that didn’t mean the words hurt any less.

“You don’t mean that Sam, you can’t.”

“You aren’t even sorry are you?” Sam asked, ignoring his words. “Why aren’t you sorry Dean?”

Eager to make his brother understand, Dean cast about for the right words. “I _know_ I’ve done nothing wrong. I _feel_ that it’s right. I _feel_ right for the first time ever. I finally feel right.”

“What about God? If you ignore God you’re being sinful.”

“I don’t care: if he doesn’t think love is right then he’s wrong.”

“And what about Mom?” the abrupt change startled him. “Mom?”

“If you keep on being sinful, you won’t ever get so see Mom again.” Sam’s tear filled eyes finally met Dean’s. “She’s in heaven and you’ll go to hell. We’ll all be in heaven while you’re in hell. I wanted us all to be together again in heaven. Now we’ll never be together ever again and it’s. All. Your. Fault.”

Before Dean could say anything, he turned and ran back towards the town.

“Sammy!” Dean yelled after him, but his brother didn’t stop, didn’t look back. He was soon swallowed by the darkness once more.

 

7.51

Dean sank to the ground, tears spilling onto his cheeks. “Cas,” he whispered to the air. “Cas where are you? Please. You have to tell me that Sam’s wrong. Where are you?”

But Cas wasn’t coming, he knew that now. He beat ineffectual fists against the ground, wishing the cracks would open and swallow him whole.

 

7.55

He was being wiped away. Soon the town would forget him, except for Missouri and thinking of him would only ever cause her sadness. Even for Sam he would be nothing more than a vague, frozen memory, unstuck from time and happiness. A formless ghost: an empty space.

The numbness was fading, replaced by anger. What had he done? _Nothing._

He’d taken everything from him: his past, his present, his mother, his father, his lover, his brother: all for what? _Nothing._

What did he have left? _The Future._

He wasn’t dead; it wasn’t heaven nor hell that awaited him. It was Something. Anything. He had no idea what lay ahead but at least is wasn’t nothing.

 There was a light in the distance, making its way towards him.

 

7.59

He stood, casting one last futile glance behind. There was no one there of course.

“Cas, I’m sorry I can’t wait for you. I don’t know what happened. I’ll find you I promise.”

The bus pulled up in front of him. “Where to kid?”

“Anywhere.”


End file.
